Almost There

Just three scripts left to mark and I'll have cleared my allocation for this May. But I'm not rushing these since I'm still within the deadline, something I didn't really expect when I set out, given the number I needed to deal with, the tightness of the deadline, and the concern that my team of examiners might need lots of help along the way. Happily I've rarely had to deal with issues arising, which helps to account for the fact I've managed my load with a reasonable amount of sweat rather than the bucketfuls I was nervously expecting to shed.

And I've just completed the digital arrival card the immigration authorities will be checking on tomorrow as we make our way north yet again. I'm hoping to grab some degree of R&R in the next couple of weeks. But I'm not counting on smooth-sailing all the way. Too old & wise (sort of) for that.

Simplicity

Just drank a glass of deliciously cold water. A kind of perfection. Sometimes that's all you need.

Real Weakness

Now back into my regular routine at the gym after the hiatus resulting from my cranky back (left side of). On a hot & sweaty day it was all predictably hot & sweaty and I didn't enjoy it one bit, except for being able to stop. But I managed the full hour on the trainer at full resistance without real strain.

Unfortunately I can't say the same for my routine on the weights. Whatever upper body strength I manage to build up over a few weeks rapidly dissipates as soon as I stop working out. It's pretty depressing to be confronted by one's weakness, I can tell you. But all part of keeping it real, I suppose.

Ah No, The Years

It's a bit of a thing for me to read John Donne's masterful poem The Anniversary  on this date, and this end of May was no exception. It's a reminder of the sheer joy of discovering JD back when I was a callow sixteen-year-old. So many years have gone by since then, but the genius of the great poet has not dimmed in any way.

And many years of anniversaries have now gone by for me in the happiest of bonds, a lot more than the second of Donne's reign. He looked forward to Years and years unto years with his beloved, whomever she might have been, if she were real at all. I'm neither hoping for nor expecting quite as long as that with my very real and present beloved, but I'm definitely settle for the slightly shorter passage of Years and years, thank you,

Not Really Necessary

Threw out a lot of expired medicines this morning and was deeply glad to do so. I was given a clean bill of health after my back doc checked me out, which was a bit of a relief considering just how cranky my left side has been of late, and I thought I'd better check on the status of the various un-popped pills to deal with back pain in my possession. These dated back to appointments in 2022, but I hadn't realised the expiry dates appeared on the tabs. The doc checked them through and declared only a few to be still efficacious. So I left with a new supply of the key tablet - which I am perfectly happy not to end up taking.

Funny really, happily paying for something I'm determined to avoid taking, if at all possible. But at my age you can't take a lack of medication for granted. Better to see it as a kind of gift.

On Target

May has proved to be my cruelest month, predictably so. And as it lurches to a conclusion I remain in thrall to stiff targets for marking, but now these concern solely work for IBO. So some small relief there.

The funny thing about these targets is that I never feel any sense of achievement in reaching them. Just an empty relief that the key nagging pressure of the day has been released and I can feel free for an hour or so, until tomorrow arrives. Which is where I am now. And where I'm hoping to be this time tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. (And tomorrow and tomorrow.)

Relentless

For once the YouTube algorithm got it right. I chanced upon the outtake Did We Make The Album from the sessions for Crimso's Thrak a few weeks back and I've been going back to it frequently. There's just so much going on over Tony Levin's bass groove that each hearing manages to surprise.

The only constant is that relentless bass line. It sounds like something I could play (on a good day), yet its absoluteness rightness in the moment speaks to a deep unselfish musicianship that only those at the very top of their game can aspire to.

As far as I understand these things, most folks wouldn't regard this as proper music. Which shows I don't really understand these things at all. I just enjoy them, and intensely so.

Pausing For Breath

Eid al-Adha 1447

We prayed at Masjid Darussalam this morning, going for the second shift of prayers for Raya. The mosque is very much in the middle of being renovated, and I found myself joining a small group in a tiny room on the second level, but all was well.

And all was equally well when the family popped round to share some grub with us that The Missus magically cooked up after we'd got back from prayers.

Better than working. (Though I did manage a fair amount of marking in the gaps.)

Feeling The Strain

18.30

Just came round from an afternoon nap and rather wish I hadn't. To say that my head is pounding would be an understatement. A timely reminder that fasting isn't easy. Especially on the first day. Must say, I'm glad there are no more days to follow.

21.17

My head now seems to be back on straight. But still feeling fragile, despite the bellyful of good things (teh tarik, mushroom puffs, dates) I've taken on board. Mildly astonished at achieving my marking targets for the day, which suggests I wasn't entirely wiped out by the fast. (Though that's the way it feels.)

20.18

Have been winding down for the last half an hour or so to bits & pieces from Maestro Ennio Morricone. A wise course of action to pursue. Recommended for all with ears & hearts. Almost fully restored.

Further Ahead

It's pretty late and I still have work-related stuff that needs to be cleared before bedtime. And, yet again, I'm trying not to moan about this, but moaning all the same. But I'm also attempting to see far enough ahead to a time when I won't feel like I have the weight of the world on my aging shoulders.

That time isn't close, I'm afraid. But neither is it so far off as to be invisible. The day is marked in my diary. And on it I will dance. But don't worry, it will be a very private dance. I have no intention of traumatising the innocent. (Or even the guilty, for that matter.)