Was looking back just now in my journal at what I was up to on this date twenty years ago and fifteen years ago. In 2001 I was moaning about feeling tired and having an aching shoulder and had just embarked on a reading of Proust. In 2006 I was moaning about feeling tired and having an aching back and was reading Neil Gaiman. Funnily enough both days fell on a weekend and it was clear that relaxing was the main thing on my mind - though I was fasting for Ramadhan in 2006 and that was pretty prominent as well.
At a distance of years from both days I'm struck by how deeply boring I was and am: a cause for minor celebration, methinks.
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