Breakfasts One-Hundred-and-Seventy-Two-and-Three

Fruit & Fibre and cherries

Cinnamon & raisin bagel with apricot jam and a nectarine.

I cycled 16 miles today. Now my legs really are going to drop off. And my bottom is rather tender too (why oh why must bicycle seats be so uncomfortable?). I was testing out how long my new commute will take: 45 minutes. Not bad considering my cronky bicycle weighs half a tonne, and has useless gears. Also, it's been so long since I last rode it that it had cobwebs on it, and a flat tyre.

Am falling asleep as I write this so must take myself off to Bedfordshire.

Breakfast the One-Hundred-and-Seventieth

Fruit & Fibre and cherries.

I had guacamole for lunch (home-made); it's been eleven hours and I could still fend off vampires (and would-be paramours) with my garlic breath. I think next time, fewer cloves. T'was yummy though.

Breakfast the Thirty-Ninth

Cinnamon and raisin bagel with raspberry jam, & some cherries (again).

My fingernails are a disgrace. This is unsurprising given that I own nothing in the way of nail paraphernalia. I almost never cut my fingernails because I hate the odd sensation you get in your fingertips when you do. It's sort of like touching cotton wool. Or when you eat too many toffees and your teeth feel furry. (Shudder)

They're not super long or anything barmy like that. I just wait for them to break off, or occasionally I'll tear a particularly raggedy one off. Sometimes though I suspect that if I were a better sort of a grown up I'd just learn to muster the odd sensation and not wander about looking like I've been digging for treasure by hand.

Breakfast the Thirty-Eighth

Cinnamon and raisin bagel with raspberry jam & some cherries.

This evening a friend gave me a cello lesson. Incredibly, I wasn't completely hopeless. This definitely bucks a trend: I've rarely found myself to be any good at the things I'd like to be good at, such as the cello. Instead I have an array of bizarre, or frankly just pedestrian, aptitudes.

To wit: I'm actually pretty good at parking -- but have no car. I can eat an entire can of condensed milk in one sitting with no ill effects. I'm rather good at the hurdles -- actual ones, metaphorical ones trip me up every time. I can navigate quite proficiently so long as I am allowed to turn the map upside down, and I can stick my big toes straight up at right angles to my feet keeping the remaining toes flat on the floor.

I would however like to be good at a few worthwhile and satisfying things, like painting, or dancing, or doing cartwheels. Even being a good knitter would be nice. I can only do scarves; and always have to google how to cast off.  But perhaps the cello could be my as yet undiscovered forte. All I need now is an anonymous benefactor to give me a cello and pay for my lessons. (And while I'm asking for things from anonymous benefactors, a two-bedroom flat in Stockbridge, or around Broughton Street, would be lovely too.)