February is dance month. I saw Pina Bausch’s Viktor, Maria Pages’ Yo Carmen, and Jesus Carmona’s Impetus. Mother loved Carmona, Sis liked Pages, and I thought Viktor was wonderfully and sometimes disturbingly surreal. Each time I had lunch at Santore. My judgement: go for the pizzas.
February is also MoT month. I have used the same local garage, Mullen Speed Test, for a long long time. This time I needed new front tyres.
Mostly I went to work, went to the gym or went home, crawled into bed by 20:45 at the latest and slept.
I finished reading the first volume of Hegel’s Aesthetics, read Neil Gaiman’s American Gods and Nick Garlick’s Storm Horse. Gaiman has sold enough, so I’m going to commend Storm Horse to you. Don’t be put off by it looking like a children’s novel. It isn’t: it’s a sparely told story about a young boy, and that spareness gives it a bracing, adult feel. I was so absorbed I did not notice the commute on the train.
Towards the end of the month, I quit treating myself after the gym to make up for the crappy Christmas I’d had. No more breakfast deals at Paul, and no more sandwich and tea from Pret at elevenses. That was all costing a lot of money. And it was keeping my weight a little heavier than I would like. The real progress got made in March, so you’ll have to wait for that bit.
I finished series two of House and started on series 3. No movies. Too damn cold.
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