Spluttering

I feel washed-out. I’ve been staving off this cold for too many days. The regular adrenaline rushes in the recording studio kept it at bay, but now that I’ve started to relax, the dreadful thing has started to engulf me.

It’s been a day of admin; a day spent drinking tea, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at my computer screen. A day of regular trips to the post office to buy envelopes and then stamps for investor packs for the Requiem. A day of constantly blowing my nose and coughing and spluttering and wishing I could get warm. I don't really have a great deal more to report...

I went running and it nearly killed me. As I got into the house, I was gasping for air, wondering if I was going to suffocate; a thought which was more embarrassing than scary. My legs now feel like lead. The run did, however, offer one rather beautiful moment as I staggered across the top of Waterlow Park. London was basking in a sort of golden light that I’m not sure I’ve seen before. It was so clear and crisp and I could see for miles and miles, across to my brother’s house in Canary Wharf and all the way due south to Crystal Palace. The sun was so low that the trees were half in shade.

A woman was sitting on a bench reading a book. The sun was lighting her face through a gap in the trees. She looked like a sepia photograph. I ran passed her, and then returned, compelled to tell her how extraordinary she looked, glowing magically on her bench. I hope she didn’t think I was out of my mind.  

We went out in the freezing air tonight to buy curry which we’re eating whilst watching Masterchef. I'm obsessed with cookery programmes, which is probably a weird admission for a vegetarian.

Saturday February 1^st, 1662, and Pepys spent the morning walking in the garden of the Navy office with Sir William Penn, who was thinking of transferring his son from Oxford to Cambridge University. Pepys went with Peter Pett the master shipwright to  visit Mr Savill, the painter. Pett admired the portraits Savill had painted of the Pepyses, and Pepys was thrilled. Perhaps Savill could finally breathe a sigh of relief...