And still she coughs

...although not quite as much. Welcome to the 787th boring Covid update. I am still making progress but I have yet to really leave it behind. I'm able to walk across the office without having to tuck back in a lung now but the appetite isn't what it was yet and the old breathing is a bit laboured. I'm also off wine (a bit). I'm not quaffing it every twenty minutes or anything but I do like a drink at the weekend. (Usually with food. If I drink it on its own, it normally causes a brain tumour). I'm just hearing a lot about how recovery is taking a long time and we are both finding that to be true. HOH is back sea swimming because he finds it therapeutic and good for his joints etc. Also, he enjoys the cake and camaraderie while everyone is rubbing themselves down afterwards. I can't swim anyway and I suspect that I would rather boil my head than sea swim so that's not an option for me. I usually walk to and from work and I suspect the sooner I can get back to that the better. Anything to get energy levels back up. 

For now, my master plan is to get up half an hour later at 6.30 because I think I could do with the sleep. This means getting a bit more organised the night before - lunches etc. I also still do a "Quiet Time" which will need organising better. Do people still do a "Quiet Time". I heard a podcast a couple of weeks ago which was poking fun at it - in a very gentle way. They described sitting down with a Bible and a notebook with a fish on it and a pencil to mark your Bible and look spiritual. Bit upset - that's more or less me for the last forty years. I'm looking for a daily readings or guidance kind of book. I usually do the Lectio 365 on my phone. Sometimes, that is good - excellent in fact but sometimes I find it a bit too woo-woo. Also, I think a devotional on my phone isn't always a good idea for me. I start off reading Malachi then find myself looking at a woman on Instagram modelling control pants. I don't really know how it happens. If you have recommendations I would love to hear them. I remember years and years ago, doing one by Martyn Lloyd Jones of all people and it, literally changed my life. I don't think I am necessarily expecting that kind of level but I am struggling to find anything that matches me - if you know what I mean. 

We did actually go away this weekend - to London - obviously. It was probably unwise in the circumstances but we had booked it months ago to go and see a celebration of the music of Philidelphia at the Royal Albert Hall with the BBC Concert Orchestra.  Absolutely amazing evening with some of the best songs ever written, played by a full concert orchestra with excellent singers. I even danced a bit. (Which I paid for later - my back). It was introduced by Sir Lenny Henry - it was nice because he actually liked the music. Also, he had one of the best lines of the night. Paying homage to the conductor - Chris Cameron - he said "This is brilliant. The only black conductor I have ever seen before now was on the Number 36 to West Bromich." Well, it made me laugh. but I've not been well. We tried to take it easy but still were up at 18500 steps by the end of the day. Our own fault - we should have gone for a nice lie down instead of the National Portrait Gallery but you don't get to see these things every week, do you? 

It's always very good in there but, if you get the chance, there is a room called Silent Testimony by Colin Davidson. there are 18 large-scale portraits of people who have experienced huge loss from the time of what is now called the Troubles. This is a terrible photo - mainly because I rushed it because it felt a bit disrespectful but these are beautiful paintings of the ongoing effects of tragedy and savagery. 

It may be because I am under the weather still but I have felt a bit sad this week. This is partly after watching The Dog House. Do you watch it? It makes me cry most weeks but this week was particularly sad as a Mum and her daughter were looking for a dog to adopt following on from the awful loss of their son/brother. He was sixteen and had gone for a bike ride and not come back. He took his own life after bullying and academic pressure had become too much. I say again - what are we doing to the young people? Why are so many of them convinced that there is no way out? What sort of a society are we allowing this to become? 

Snotty politicians scoff at the prevalence of mental health problems in the young (usually accompanied by some donk making the sign of speech marks around the words mental and health) but something is going very wrong somewhere I think. 

We came home on the train just behind Storm Whatever It Was Called. Why are we naming the weather? Does anyone remember the name? No. There were some Americans sitting behind us remarking on the way the train at Dawlish runs so close to the seafront and how lovely it is. I was feeling quite proud of Devon until one of them, looking at the admittedly still very choppy water asked

"But was it really wise? Building a railway line here? I wonder if it ever has to close?"

Well actually yes - about once every twenty minutes at this time of the year and I thought I would also keep quiet about the year the whole line was washed into the sea. 

Not all human decisions are entirely sensible, I suppose. Have a good week.