The quiet is beginning to get to me
It’s been a slog these past couple of days. The thing about planning a trip away is that it is all in your head; the idea of peace and being able to concentrate is idyllic. A month and a bit away, nothing to do but write, sounds fantastic (and I’ll no doubt bite your hand off if you offer me it again in February, when it is minus 25 in Ottawa and every fibre of my being is crying to be with somewhere else. But it can be too quiet.
Today, for some reason, it got too me a little bit. Mrs. Ottawacker had taken Ottawacker Jr. up to Sundridge to visit her dad, so there was no emergency phone a friend available either. I couldn’t concentrate, the novel seemed too difficult and too impenetrable again.
Went for breakfast to Carrefour. Highlight of the day, especially given the abject performance Liverpool put in against Leeds. I am not sure I have seen a worse performance under Klopp.
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