Missed Calls

Preparing to head out from Oxford, with one last stop at Alice’s shop.  A sadly nostalgic turn of a prior life, wondering what might have been, and on how things unfolded.  The trees and bit of Thames still there for the Rioja, and a solid hangover nursed through into the Chairing of D&I that went well but for the sensitive “go after them” moment.  Always something.  

Slept well in this room, the first of the isolation chambers.  Frustrating to miss the NHS call this morning that could have bought some time and relief, but it is a stress that must just be accepted.  What will be will be.  Nil symptoms, except an ache for the past and its complexities, as this trip serves its intent as an overlong goodbye opportunity.  

A joyous day ahead, from Illyria to the Emirates.  Enjoy it.  They are not long, the days of wine and roses…  even so, it feels like there is enough time in it for multiple existences.  This feels like an inflection point.  The exquisite music of a strange procession of the past.  Look on it, the Alexandria you are losing.