Got back to the gym this evening after an absence of a week. This was partly due to the presence of our guests over the weekend acting as a break on my physical endeavours, but in the main because my right knee has been more than a bit iffy of late. As was the case for my last few visits, I didn't push myself too hard, so again I fell well short of reasonable expectations. But at least I was back in action.
In an echo of the slowing of my body I'm not exactly speed-reading the second volume in the Penguin edition of Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur. I'm vaguely hoping to complete it by the time we find ourselves in Kuala Lumpur for the Chinese New Year break, but I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't manage it. It isn't that I don't keep picking it up; rather it's because I keep putting it down. Four pages is my limit, after which I just can't keep track of the repetitive action. A man can only take so much jousting - though Malory's knights seem to be able to take day after repetitive day of it.
It would be nice to be able to blame the slow pace of my reading on the busyness of work, but it would be dishonest to do so. Yes, it's busy, but not super-busy, as it will certainly be after CNY, and nowhere near the impossibly-busy, the dreaded state we'll enter into in May, the cruellest month.