More revision. A breakfast with the remaining corn bread, toasted and slathered with fresh goat cheese and apricot jam. Bowl of café au lait.
A walk down to market, shortly, in the rain. Back for more reading and revision. Possibly a double feature at the cinema later.
Scribbled notes about the times, after reading that another French Minister is looking for the exit. Intends to run in the Regionals. Will give up his ministerial post, if elected. Ministers don’t lower themselves into lifeboats when the going is good. But the President’s new love says the President is a wonderful man and really, really listens.
The media source for that touching public avowal of affection: the transmogrified Nouvel Observateur, now relabeled L’Obs. I buy the paper edition on occasion out of lasting attachment to Delfeil de Ton’s acid-laced opinion pieces and for a glance at the TV offerings I’m glad to avoid. The choice sound bites show up on Facebook anyway and provide a fifteen minute digest of drivel. Useful fuel, if writing happens to hold more interest for you than the sixth season of a series featuring walking dead in ghoulish makeup.
Rainy Sunday. Holiday. Revision. Perfection? No, but close enough, all things considered.