It's not that I wanted to ditch the diary, but I've either not had any time to write or been too beaten down to do it. I'm making an effort to resume posting regularly. When I think of the past I am saddened by the fat that I only remember a selection of days/events - I would like to remember a lot more, even the boring days. As a character says in "Slapstick" by Vonnegut while tapping his forehead "it isn't the museum it should be". That's what a diary is for.
It makes no sense to attempt a summary of what has happened since the last entry (about 4 months ago). I'll just say that I nailed that interview (what's my secret you ask? a shot of whisky in my tea) and got the job - which started in mid January. It's not rewarding (the students are so bad it's painful) and it's a lot of hours, but at least it pays well and offers me some stability so I won't complain. I do feel a little better being "productive" - I had a pretty dark time in December with feelings of uselessness. I was so down that when they told me I got the job I felt nothing. I even got Covid (for the 2nd time overall), that's how shitty my December was. But it's getting better, little by little.
I'm currently on a train to the capital with my wife. We are going to spend a couple of days there to have a mini-break - I'm on holiday and she took the days off. She needs to find a dress for her best friend's wedding and the shops where we live have little to offer in the way of summer dresses appropriate for a wedding in Italy in May. We are also attending a Jesus & Mary Chain concert, which was the official excuse for the trip. The weather is going to be pish all day tomorrow, so we're probably going to spend it indoors by visiting the National Museum of Archeology, which we didn't pay a visit to on our last time there (in early January).
Generally speaking, the weather has been horrendous for a long time. It's still quite cold despite being nearly the end of March and in particular a chill wind has been blowing non-stop for what feels like weeks. Only lately we've had something in the way of a break: starting with St. Patrick's day we've had the occasional sunny spell, at least for a few hours at a time; it is still bitterly cold though. Other than that, the only way to tell it's spring is by the fact that the market has started selling products like artichokes and broad beans (I'm eagerly awaiting for the asparagus to drop in price, because I'm not paying 7-8 euros for a bundle imported from the other side of the world).
By the way, St. Patrick's day was, as usual, underwhelming. We didn't even bother attending the parade this year - people that did confirmed to us that we didn't miss anything. It's funny that many, say, spanish villages in the middle of nowhere throw festivals for their local patron saint that absolutely mog the St. Patrick's parades in here. My mother asked me about the celebrations because she had noticed pubs and restaurants near her organising multi-day events for St. Patrick's day, and I had to tell her that after the sad parade people pour into the pubs and that's it. My wife and I did go to the pubs as well, mostly to say we did and to take advantage of the fact it wasn't raining. The first one we visited was packed, we had to stand and shout to talk to each other; the second one was a smaller pub for locals and was significantly quieter (it was my first time there).
I've stopped my exercise routine at the end of last year. I simply do not have the time, given I get home around 6pm most days and I have to get dinner started right away. However, due to the buses being terribly unreliable, I've started regularly walking to work when it's not raining. It takes me one hour each way, which I usually spend reading a book (the road is easy to follow). I had not realised that these walks were burning about 700 kcals a day; I was caught off-guard and started losing weight again. The lowest I've reached so far has been 80.2 kgs, which I haven't been in a long time. However, my actual weight swings wildly: just this morning, after days of indulgence, I weighed 83.5 kgs.
I finished "Moby Dick" and then finished "Moise and the World of Reason" (which, recall, is the novel by Tennessee Williams I found in Edinburgh thanks to my wife's keen eye). Now I am reading a gorgeous 14th century book I bought during our last trip to the capital called "The Travels of Ibn Battutah" (an abridged version). It's more or less the muslim version of "Il Milione" by Marco Polo: Ibn Battutah sets out from Tangier to go on a pilgrimage to Mecca, but ends up travelling around much of the known world for almost 30 years, reaching as far as India and China. It's a fascinating read, an open window into the muslim world of the 14th century.
My mother has been diagnosed with being at risk of osteoporosis, and being an extremely anxious person she has started freaking out about it. She keeps updating me about the visits and tests her doctor has prescribed her. I have tried to tell her that she needs to sort out her awful diet to tackle this permanently (she is the quintessential picky eater), but she's been acting like a child in this regard. I sent her a list of vegetables rich in calcium and she kept saying it's all stuff she doesn't eat and that she'll take the supplements instead - as if it's the same thing. I'll keep pressing her on this, let's see if I can't shame her into adopting a better diet for herself.
The train is making its way through the countryside; the sky has been uniformly grey throughout. My wife is reading her book ("Orlando" by Virginia Woolf) sitting next to me. It's been exactly 1 hour since we left the train station.