I do not like changes in my technology because I am a bear of very analogue brain. Sometimes I miss simply typing out my ramblings and circulating them among friends at church and school. An Eighties' Child, that's me.
Apologies to everyone who has sent me comments in the past month that I did not see. I will go through the com boxes and respond.
Meanwhile, it's the August Holiday long weekend in Canada, and I opted for the Canadian Bank Holiday Mondays (as B.A. usually had to work the British ones), so I am free! That said, my break from the computer lasted as long as it took me to make a blackcurrant vodka cocktail and have a look at the explosion of fluffy purple flowers in my garden. It looks like an invasion from space.
I told a colleague that today was supposed the hottest day of the year in Scotland, hotter than Lanzarote. At lunchtime B.A. and I walked to the parish church in the sun and then to the ice-cream store. It was marvellous. My colleague asked how hot, and I looked online to see. 75 F. He then laughed merrily, as he is in Virginia, where it is in the 90s but the humidity makes it feel like the 100s.
Now I get to think about what to do with my time now that I don't have to read or write news. Naturally I will study Polish, read Italian, and finish a book I'm reviewing. I will make some suggestions about a pupil's "Chapter One," and I will even write a "Chapter One" myself, so as not to make my students do anything I'm not doing myself. I will read up on New Criticism, so I can get some insight into what it is that I am teaching decades after being taught it myself.
I will do some housework--the hard scrubbing and hoovering stuff, not just the dishes and the laundry. Oooh, I think the charity shops are open, so I can have a real rid-out at last.
For the moment, I'm on the stoop at the top of our stairs and I've just had a chat with the downstairs neighbour. She's says she's back at work at the hotel--just 15 hours a week to keep her in chocolate and Gin-and-Tonic.
"Life's little essentials," she said.
The marvellous thing about our street of row houses is that every flat has its own private garden. Several of them--including ours--are full of washing, as the neighbourhood takes advantage of 75 degree weather. You would think that the Scots would all invest in drying machines, given our usual weather, but no! Well, perhaps the New Town can laugh off the utility bills, but we cannot.
Anyway, B.A. and I may go on another country walk although this is not certain as the poor man has developed plantar fasciitis. He can no longer bicycle, and he refuses to be put in a bicycle trailer, so our options are limited.
Now I will read your comments--I hope.