I have a cold.
So don't expect me to be chirpy.
Salisbury was weird. I walked into town from the train station and passed two sex shops and two tattoo parlours before getting to the high street. The third shop on the high street contained a full size model of Dr Who's Tardis and an immobile Dalek.
I have something here that claims to be an 'early defence' against cold germs. I'm supposed to spray it up each nostril and then not breath too deeply. I think it might be acid. I think the idea is that the acid will burn out the germs, and if it takes some brain cells with it then it's no big deal. Every time I spray it up my nose I start hyperventilating. And crying.
Tom Geoghegan tells us how to prolong the misery of the moment...
A child's day from 0900 to 1530 is like a 20-hour day for an adult, he says, and in his book Making Time he explains why.
Mr Taylor believes time is elastic, not solid, so a man on a three-hour plane journey can have a longer "psychological time" than the passenger next to him. And a man who dies at 40 can live a longer life than a man who dies at 80 if he has travelled around the world and had new experiences.
Western culture, unlike some indigenous peoples, presents a linear view of time, with human lives like a river running through the past, present and future, he says.
I'm off to sniff and cough and acid-out-my-brains in a corner.
Hope it's sunny tomorrow.
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