Groundhog Day

One of the many strange things I will remember about pandemic life is how it’s hard to differentiate between weeks. The days are somewhat ‘samey’ which has its benefits in terms of slowing down and appreciating the curl of a leaf, the coo of a dove, or the cut of a jib. Some rampant excitement would be nice though, from time to time. This evening I was remembering a languorous cycle one balmy evening, which may have been June or may have been April. Who knows. It doesn’t honestly matter as long as I enjoyed the birds trilling as I journeyed (away from the roar of the motorway bridge).

I met up with Leigh for a stroll and an ice cream at the popular gelato place in the city centre (salted treacle flavour tonight: pretentious but delicious and creamy). She is always a wise one, inspiring me on numerous fronts to tackle life’s imbalances and to not dilly-dally when it comes to self-care. We’ll meet up next week and think more about our core needs, which in my case definitely require some serious attention.

This is Chris Adams House on Botolph Lane, which is only about 100 metres from our Cambridge office, but which I’ve never clocked. An alumnus of Pembroke College (Christopher Adams) gifted money that allowed the college to purchase the building, which forms a sort of spillover space for Pembroke students.