Now

It’s fall. There’s a light breeze up and the sky is patchy with windswept fluff carried to and fro before the sun, causing the brightness in the window to pulse gently every few minutes. The light has, over the course of a single week, adopted the watery faraway look that it will retain for the next six or seven months. I can see Daylight Saving Time at the end of the street, going door to door with its pamphlets advocating Full British Darkness. Pretty soon it’ll be here. I double-check that the rechargeable batteries for my headlight are charged.

I picked up Ghyll’s poo and mowed the lawn yesterday. Put a load of laundry out but it’s just barely too chilly to dry clothes all the way through. Tidied up the kitchen. Made up a list of chores that I’m not likely to do. I like the orderly feeling of brisk weather.

I knelt down on the ground this morning and discovered that a cable had come undone under the car. I think it probably happened while we were driving through Wark Forest at the weekend. I remember going over a bump and hearing a bit of a bang. The Check Engine light came on a little after that, and the engine started giving off a new grumbling sort of sound. I’ve plugged the cable back in and cleared the engine fault codes. I wonder if it’ll come back. We may be in the market for a new connector. Doesn’t explain the grumbling, though. I’ll get the car up on jacks at some point and see if I’ve knocked a hole in the exhaust. That would be a pain.

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I’ve just recovered from a quick bout of covid. I think about covid probably less than I should. People are still out there getting covid all of the time, and some of them are getting really ill. It knocked me on my bottom pretty good. But a full day’s rest bookended with gratuitous, sweaty fever dreams was enough to break its hold in my case. I’m fascinated by the metrics my watch recorded throughout: elevated heartrate, depressed heart rate variability. My Stress Score was abysmal, and my Body Battery was pretty much empty for three days. Technology can be a marvel. I give covid

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Sam and I watched a couple of seasons of Clarkson’s Farm recently and now we’re scrolling Zillow listings for smallholdings in the Pennines and the Borders. Twenty acres would do us. Twenty acres for a cow or two, maybe a goat. A shed to keep the car in, maybe some freeweights or a treadmill. Abutting open access land, close proximity to singletrack. I don’t want to be a farmer, but I want to live on a farm.

When we ran out of episodes of Clarkson’s Farm we went back to catch up on The Grand Tour. I can see why Clarkson has elected to stop doing it. It’s clear that the three of them just aren’t into reviewing cars anymore. That’s fair. Cars are pretty much all the same now, with minor variations. You can only say, “Please look at this 700-horsepower supercar with a Mercedes-AMG engine,” so many different ways.

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More tiling this weekend. From here on out I’m going to do my utmost never to tile another surface in my life. I expect this resolution will last maybe 4 months. for the work, for the result.