Today I woke up before dawn, made my London coffee and sat down with Agatha Christie's I Dieci Piccoli Indiani, which I have to finish before I can buy myself a real Italian book. It's my new rule, made so that I will stop buying foreign language book I never get around to reading.
When Benedict Ambrose got up, he got himself some coffee and went up to the roof to wait for the dawn. When he returned, he said that it had been terribly cold before the sun arrived. We then went for croissant and our morning walk, and the difference between the sunbeams and the shadows was acute.
Now I am in the "second bedroom", which is dark and dismal when the shutters are closed, but it now flooded with sunlight.
How good it is to be in Rome in October!
Last night it was dusk by the time I was finished work. We hurried out and down the narrow streets to the TLM, which was accompanied by a fine choir. The communion line, which formed after Mass, was long. However, we got our groceries and had a splendid supper and listen to "Lepanto" before it was too late to enjoy them.
Suddenly I feel the need for a nap. As I have to read and summarise a long hypothesis on coronavirus for work, this will never do.