Mumbling Into The Void (slight return)

 Out and about this morning. Decided then best thing I could do to make myself feel better was actually leave the bloody house. A walk down Brown's Lane, along Copy Lane, up St Oswald's and home - might not feel much but it's the most exercise I've done in a fortnight.  Feel awake. Feel invigorated. For now. Met a young woman on Brown's Lane. Asked me for directions to Coy Lane (which I didn't hear because I had my AirPods in) "Where are you going on Copy Lane?" "The dizzy place." Then regaled me with the fact that her fella's ex had attacked her at a bus stop, kicked her (rolled up her trackie leg to show me the bruise, which I hadn't asked for), that she'd been putting up with this stuff since she was 20 (weirdly now 37), that her fella's ex had said he had a baby with her but her fella was young then and hadn't even slept with her.  She'd been to St Anne's Street to report it, now had to go to Copy Lane to give ...

 That's a message to self. Mally's birthday unattended on Saturday, a request for a TAW show turned down this morning. Haven't walked more than 30 yards in a week, been nowhere, hardly left the house. And now the worst stomach I've had in ages. Brilliant. So the message to self is, stop whinging, concentrate on the good stuff.  Genuinely good weekend, though J's going through the worst of the virus at the moment. Watched a lot of TV, read a fair bit, learned a couple of country licks and - in the middle of watching a note overly great Motown doc (with stunning bits) - The Temptations' My Girl riff. As with most works of genius, it's easier and more obvious than you'd expect. The wonder is thinking of it and making it work. Why be tricksy when you can catch people? That's why Zappa is a minority interest, and Northern Soul makes your hear leap - one wants to be clever, the other just wants to 'be'. So, today, back to DD act two. With a bit of ...