The lockdown blog: day 8
The slow languorous Sunday has begun. I woke up and, after making my breakfast of coffee and porridge (garnished with a generous helping of peanut butter), gobbled the rest of Ghost. I have been reading this novel pretty compulsively since I began. The words wash through me like honey, sweet and easy. I do not feel enlightened after each page, but brightened, yes. Finished and tossing this to one side, ghosting it like the characters it features, I made my way down to Tesco's bottle bank. Empty wine bottles clanking conspicuously in my rucksack. I have had quite a collection built up since roughly mid November. Bags finally emptied they smell like bad breath the morning after a night out--a memory of how things were in the BC days. I never thought I'd be romanticizing hangover breath, but there you go. Bottles chucked, I suddenly experienced a moment of regret. Should I be keeping these? Don't worry, I am not experiencing attachment syndrome to my used wine bottles. Fo...