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Week 268: Suspension of disbelief

The week started badly: I opened my laptop for a 9am meeting only for it to run out of battery and die seconds later, before it even had time to tell me it was running low.

After that abrupt termination, I couldn’t get Firefox to start again, so I couldn’t even rejoin the call. In the absence of any better ideas, I ran a software update, and it worked. Perhaps changing the version caused it to abandon some corrupted version-specific cached state.

I didn’t think I was allergic to dogs, but my itchy eyes, blocked nose and sneezing after two hours in the same room tell me I’m definitely allergic to that particular black Labrador, and, presumably, some subset of dogkind. Bad news for L—’s desire that we get a dog.

Someone nearly died in front of me by walking straight under the wheels of a double decker bus as it turned the corner left out of Rye Lane.

He couldn’t see any traffic, so he strode confidently out into the road. He couldn’t see it because his hood completely blocked his peripheral vision, and he didn’t notice the bus until it was centimetres away.

I know from experience that people in hoods never have a clue what’s going around them, and little desire to turn their entire body to find out, so I always cycle carefully around them. Luckily for this individual, the bus driver was also on the ball.

We went to the latest Musica Antica concert, a programme of 17th century Venetian music. They had already recorded the pieces for an album, and performed the same concert elsewhere three times that week, so it was particularly cohesive.

I was in Greenwich on Friday so I decided to pick up one of Crosstown’s large selection of vegan doughnuts to share over a cup of tea later. They’re now £5 each. That’s quite a lot for one doughnut, even at 2026 prices.

My streak of 5+ years without a cluster headache came to an end at the weekend. So far, I’ve only had two incidents, on Saturday afternoon and Sunday evening, and I hope that’s it.

Small Prophets was delightful in its combination of gentle comedy and alchemic mysticism. I found it a little hard to suspend my disbelief: It’s supposed to be set in Manchester but not only is the weather fine the whole time, he even runs out of rainwater in the water butt.

Links from the week:

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  • Week 267: Mouldy cobs

    L— requested corn on the cob for dinner so I did my best. Co-op didn’t have any. The greengrocer didn’t have any. Tesco had a few corn cob sections, in plastic bags of four. According to the bags, they were still well within the “best before” date. According to the black mould growing on them, however, … I decided to cook something else.

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  • Week 266: Dreich days

    I cycled past someone else on a bike with a child on the back just in time to hear her say to the child, “It’s a dreich day”. And it was. In fact, there have been a lot of them, though it’s not a word you hear too often down here.

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  • Week 265: Concerto

    I went to see a podiatrist (they used to be called chiropodists) on Monday to get my toenail sorted out. At some point in the summer, I bashed my big toe, leaving a black mark under the nail that was slowly growing out. However, the trauma also left the nail weakened until it came away from the bed and started to split last week, and I was worried that it might split and delaminate further, or get caught and damaged.

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  • Week 264: An old world dying

    The madness on the other side of the Atlantic looms like a spectre over everything, and it’s sometimes difficult to concentrate when a rogue superpower seems intent on wreaking colonial violence both outward and inward. Trump’s threats against Greenland were finally rowed back a bit, but thinkpieces that ask questions like “would invading Greenland mean the end of NATO?” seem to miss the point: if you’re worried about your putative ally invading, you don’t really have an ally. Meanwhile, the stormtroopers of ICE murdered yet another person as they kidnapped and brutalised and carried out the regime’s weird vendettas in Minnesota.

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Older entries can be found in the archive.