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The weekend

The weekend, for anyone working all week, is the prize. Yet when it's here I find a certain level of anxiety appears: what will I do that makes me feel as though I've had a weekend, but which doesn't take all the weekend? For introverts this former point is important; we recharge our batteries alone, or at least, not through our social lives. How much time alone is needed? I find it to be at least a day. And then come Sunday there's the anxiety about facing the workload on Monday! The New Economics Foundation have brought out several reports over the past few years that attempts to put the person back at the top of the agenda, instead of 'the economy' and 'GDP' and 'productivity rates' etc. One of the things NEF calls for is a 21-hour week. This, they say, would ensure everyone who needs to be employed is and the fewer hours (3 days) would enable parents to spend more time with kids and the rest of us time to pursue 'other things'; the things that we try and seek in our work: fulfilment, creativity (ie the ability to create), a sense of accomplishment - or simply more exercise and slower food or even the true innovation we're constantly told will turn the economy around. It's a nice idea.

I slept until late yesterday then felt a tad guilty for 'wasting' half the day. I took myself off for a four-mile walk, along the river and up to Mortlake, and carried a bag of groceries on the way back, whilst listening to a radio 4 Desert Island Discs podcast of John Peel, recorded in 1990. He really was an authentic man by the sounds of it - his voice, even and bullshit-free. And when he said there were rock and punk records that he cried to, I could relate and I felt, as I walked (also trying to eat a jam-filled brioche bun), that I wanted to cry because in that moment I felt absolutely connected to what he was saying - and why. When asked if he knew why he liked certain music he said he didn't know. The feeling I got when he mentioned 'bursting into tears' at these records was a kind of grief mixed with a survivor's gratitude - a grief for lost childhoods when the buoyancy and feelings of power that some of the music evokes could not be expressed but had to be stuffed down - and the adult tears in full yet verbally inarticulate acknowledgement of this - mingled with absolute gratitude for knowing it. It was a lovely walk, accompanied by John Peel.

This morning I ran (and walked a bit) 3:14 miles around Regent's Park in aid of the British Heart Foundation. I did not enjoy it at all. I'm struggling with running - I'm finding it hard to accept that I may only get one good run for every three or four others! Oh well. I said I'd give myself 2012 to get running and that's what I'm doing. 2013, though, could well be a different matter.

Onwards. I've written a few pages. That's all I'm saying on the matter. One of the pages is full of doodles!


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