Some things that have happened:
1. My neck gave up.
I did not know this was how the ageing process went. One minute I had the more or less serviceable neck of a woman in early middle age, the next I had the sagging wattle of a geriatric domestic fowl. Sic transit etc. I wonder if 41 years of functional dehydration have finally caught up with me? I'm not drinking more water even if that IS the case. Rather, I am taking it as a sign that I can settle into proper middle aged drinking (= stiff gin every evening), continue to dress like a dog breeder and shout at young people on the tram. I might as well embrace it.
2. I went relic hunting with my internet friend F in Paris.
(No, we did not rob Kim Kardashian)
Oh GOD, we had such fun. We saw: many femurs, innumerable fragments of the true cross, a fragment of Christ's umbilical cord, St Innocent's teeth, a reliquary in the shape of a foot (whether it contained a foot was uncertain), 2 whole incorrupt saints (wax coated) and some parts of St Helena all trussed up like a parma ham.
We missed out on the incorrupt heart of St Vincent de Paul (chapel too busy with pilgrims) and, in Yorkshire, the hand of St Margaret Clitherow (we went to Yorkshire too), but there is always next time. We'll Always Have Relics. A friend who shares your love of shrivelled saint digits is a precious thing indeed.
The woman cleaning our Airbnb was obsessed with telling me about a previous guest who had left an apple behind the front door. This was apparently the most depraved thing she had ever seen. "A whole apple. Not a core. I rang my boss and I told him, 'I hope you're sitting down', then I told him the whole story." It was very puzzling. I hope we did not leave any accidental fruit behind.
Also on a produce theme, Paris seemed to be obsessed with municipal plantings of kale and chard. What is that all about?
This, whilst not a relic, also pleased me:
Definitely if I were choosing a shop sign for my bun shop it would be one featuring my massive hand buboe.
I am now missing Paris and North Yorkshire with equal fervour, which is puzzling and difficult. Also, I am doing that obnoxious thing where you get home after a reasonably extended absence and people have moved things and done things and you bustle around tutting and narrowing your eyes, in the manner of a dog territorially pissing on a lamppost. I hate myself for it, but apparently cannot stop.
3. I have updated the reading page for September.
Not the most memorable month, much soporific Icelandic crime.
4. The St Gilles penis
Followed by the St Catherine arsehole. Ah, Belgium.
5. I got chatted up at the station.
By a (strange, elderly, probably mad) man who said "do you have lots of brothers, because you have very masculine taste." For some reason (#thepatriarchy) I found this absurdly flattering.
6. Accidentally attended Richard III's birthday celebrations at Middleham Castle.
Man, those people are crazy. A lot of them were wearing Richard III sweatshirts and they had scattered white roses all over the castle and were standing around being vehement about his innocence and general good chap-itude. There was Richard III cheese and a weary looking dog wearing Richard III's coat of arms.
7. Dutch class blues
I was forced to go up a level and now I don't really understand anything and am desperately scrabbling to catch up after missing two classes due to my relics jolly. Also, the new teacher thinks Brexit is hilarious, which is getting a bit old, and we are learning the conditional tense through the medium of sport, which is unspeakably sordid. The class is in a new building which is further away and has no functioning drinks machine and I am generally not bathed in positive feelings about the whole endeavour, but too listless and inert to do anything about it. However, I do have an excellent new Dutch word: rompslomp, meaning hassle.
20% Shaping up for double pizza today, like the disgusting beast I am.
20% Must pitch. Have been asked to pitch. Have no ideas. Head like an empty Greggs bag, with only a few crumbs of puff pastry inside, rolling uselessly down the street.
20% Too much good TV to watch. Ru Paul! Transparent! Bake Off! Hunted! Other stuff!
20% Surly administrative avoidance - screw you, inbox.
20% Wondering if I could get a fragrance that would be "Betty's York, 9am, c.1987"