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Post by sparacus on Jun 21, 2020 15:01:31 GMT -5
Sunday 26th April
Sadly the daffodils in my apartment window box came and went with March. But I have the tulips, their varied shades providing a strange juxtaposition to the singularity of routine inherent in confinement. Julian has taken up painting and is doing fascinating things with the oils that I bought him online. I had a skype meeting with my parents yesterday; I fear that one of the worst consequences of this period will be the increased competence of the elderly with IT. The girl in the downstairs apartment had friends round for a party. Very annoying that she feels that the rules don’t apply to her. Julian wanted me to phone Barry Tuck and tell her that she had invited him and his uncouth mates. I agree it would have been amusing to hear her reaction when he turned up, however I refrained. I’m enjoying an absinthe and a slice of fine Gorgonzola before bed. Tomorrow I may work remotely on some cases or I may not. Languidity keeps me young and beautiful.
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Post by sparacus on Jun 21, 2020 15:05:19 GMT -5
Friday 19th June
Another lugubrious day passed by and another lugubrious month. I’ve been too depressed to write in my diary. I’m sick of this lockdown, sick and strangely numb. Dying inside. Julian is making me vegan salads and occasionally penetrating the thick fog of my melancholy with his sharp and wicked sense of humour. He suggested that we go out and find a beggar to burn money in front of or a nun to push over into a bramble bush. What is to be done with him? I’ve tried and I’ve failed to find a sense of meaning in this confinement. Thankfully we can now go to the parks but I’m furious that we still can’t go away for a break. I want to stay in a nice hotel by the coast, with the sound of the sea drifting through the open window in the evening. I’m reading a book on druidry. I’ve also furloughed most of the Operation Delta staff. No point in paying them when the government will do it for me. Now I’m going to return to my painting. I took up painting some months back. I have a natural artistic temperament. Still no reply to my texts from the Doctor. Why am I not surprised? She lacks flair for her job.
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Post by sparacus on Jun 21, 2020 15:07:14 GMT -5
Sunday 21st June
I feel so lethargic and drained that I can hardly drag myself out of bed. Luigi has prepared breakfast of summer fruits, fresh cream with herb-bread and honey. Julian is asleep after staying up far too late working on his dissertation. I don’t know why he bothers however his incredible enthusiasm for all things literary does impress me. Sadly it’s a grey morning on this solstice day. I received a letter from Emma yesterday asking for money. The sheer nerve of the woman and yes it was all about her ‘emotional stress’. Absurd. She should have tried living my life and then she’d know what emotional stress was all about. It went in the bin. I was so worked up that I had to listen to ‘A Sky of Honey’ from Kate Bush’s exquisite ‘Aerial’ album to calm down. Last night, at midnight, I wandered into the night under a bright moon, which lit up these historic streets. The moonlight in Cambridge is different to elsewhere, somehow more inviting and enchanting. This time of year has luminous skies: it’s moods can change like quicksilver. On clear days, a small cloud here has the effect of a thunderstorm in other towns. But today is grey.
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Post by sparacus on Jul 5, 2020 16:04:05 GMT -5
Monday 22nd June
I woke up this morning with a strange, woozy feeling and a throbbing head. I’ve always been a rather delicate person and I put my I’ll health down to the stress of running an important organisation. Julian made me poached quails eggs and herb-bread toast which helped to calm me slightly. He’s a delight but I felt really low today. When I looked in the mirror this morning I thought that I could see faint lines appearing on my cheeks. I don’t want to grow old, it shouldn’t have to happen to someone like me. The pain of the human condition and our self-awareness of it can be too much. The world is constantly robbed of beautiful things by time. Yet the transience of beauty does lend it a preciousness and a rarity. I had a double-brandy to calm myself down and sat in the garden eating fresh strawberries and listening to Vivaldi on headphones. My blue Columbine is in flower and last year’s seedlings are thriving. The Columbine was one of the herbs used against the Black Death in the 14th century. Then the sun was overtaken by clouds and I heard the distant sound of thunder. But no rain came so I stayed outside and made Luigi cook me poached salmon. I feel that he is increasingly lazy. I wish I had the Doctor’s ability to regenerate, although I would not wish to be transformed into an old man like her previous incarnation.
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Post by sparacus on Jul 5, 2020 16:05:16 GMT -5
Saturday 27th June
It has been a strange day and I am relaxing with an absinthe and Gorgonzola as it is too warm to sleep. I keep getting bombarded with emails from Corinne and Paul regarding when we are going to resume full operations and get the team out of furlough. It is very stressful having to deal with all of this so I rather foolishly went along with Corinne’s suggestion that we go back to work on July 6th. She was hassling me about some mysterious events in the North-East involving strange creatures seen emerging from the sea near Staithes. I joked that it must be the locals but I fear that she will want to drag me up there once the restrictions are relaxed. I finally received a reply from the Doctor after months of messaging. Would you believe that it read: ‘Best wishes to you all and chin up guys, from Doc 13 and team TARDIS’. No offer to help or to come to earth and work with us. And I’m very disappointed that she should call herself ‘Doc’. The gas man came round this morning to conduct the annual service on the apartment boiler. Except that it wasn’t the usual chap but a rather enticing and handsome young man called Jeff. Julian was out so I was free to chat with Jeff without inducing moodiness in Julian. Jeff was a visual delight however I was saddened when he said that he is shortly to be getting married to his pregnant girlfriend. What a waste; I told him that he’s too young to be chained up and trapped. He may think he’s marrying her but he’ll soon find out he’s married her mother as well and entered a life of confinement. I may go out tomorrow as I’m feeling braver and maybe a little reckless. Indeed I will now treat myself to another absinthe.
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Post by sparacus on Jul 5, 2020 16:07:25 GMT -5
Sunday 5th July
So much has happened since my last diary entry that I don't know where to begin. I'm extremely stressed and have has to have three Fox's Glacier Mints to calm myself down. Life can get so overwhelming at times. I rang Jeff telling him that there was an additional fault with the boiler, a white lie, and he came round on Tuesday when Julian was out with his student friends at the Blue Angel. Without going into detail, one thing led to another and we ended up in bed together. I feel that it would be churlish to berate myself for this, nobody is perfect and essentially this was caused by the lockdown leading me to feel bored, lethargic and in need of some excitement. Also the faint lines I thought I saw on my face damaged my self-esteem. Unfortunately Jeff is not a mature-minded individual it seems. He claims to be confused about his feelings and has become very needy. He keeps texting and phoning me in an emotional state saying he feels guilty about his girlfriend. I told him to dump her and forget the marriage as he's a nice guy it seems and good to keep as insurance in case things don't work out with Julian, not that I can even contemplate that; it would devastate me. I don't want Jeff to be used by this girl's family. Yesterday he phoned claiming that his father has disappeared and would I help. I foolishly told him about Operation Delta , well one has to impress. It turns out that he grew up near to Staithes, talk about coincidence, and he was telling me about the reports of creatures emerging from the sea. I don't want Julian to get the merest hint of any of this. Fortunately he doesn't read this diary and I've encrypted it anyway. Back to work tomorrow. I don't know how I will cope with things going on in my life as well. I've heard no more from the Doctor, predictably, but I did get an annoying message from Katie. She wants to set up her own organisation. I told her that she will get no funding in the post-Covid world and that she should give up the idea.
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Post by sparacus on Jul 18, 2020 19:20:16 GMT -5
Saturday 18th July
A tiring day today. I'm sitting in a musty, mouldy smelling hostel room in Staithes. I dread lying on the bed in case it has bed bugs, but brave I must be. I'm so stressed at the moment. I really do not want Julian to find out about my fling with Jeff; I just cannot call whether he is mature-minded enough to cope. He could be, after all he has a wicked sense of humour. However I just cannot take the risk. That awful Martha Jones has come along on the trip and keeps hinting things to Julian. She's working with Katie, who I must make time to phone and give a piece of my mind. Martha gets on my nerves, she probably hasn't smiled for twenty years. I really hope I've done enough to keep Jeff quiet. Why does my life have to be so complicated? Pity Ben.
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Post by sparacus on Oct 26, 2020 8:41:46 GMT -5
Sunday 25th October
What a horrible, dull morning it is with the rain pouring down on Cambridge again. It has been raining endlessly for weeks. I have been too busy to write in this diary with endless cases weighing down on me like the labours of Hercules. However I’m self -isolating due to the rising infection rate and Kyle testing positive for Covid. I’m horrified that he could have passed it on to me and to the rest of the team. He must have been going out partying with his London mates or something to catch it, I had no idea he still saw those kind of people. He’s self isolating as well in his own flat and Operation Delta is now running on a very few staff . All Kyle’s fault. Corinne Shaw keeps pestering me about ‘blended working’ and saying that I can join meetings on Zoom. Absolute nonsense, I’m not doing that. I’m a sensitive guy and having work impinge on my home life is not good for my state of mind. Julian is self-isolating with me and our meals are being delivered by the Mermaid Wine Bar. I’ve ordered their Sunday beef roast special, together with a bottle of Merlot. Tea will be smoked mackerel on a bed of mixed leaves. I have had two bottles of the finest Slovenian absinthe delivered, 40% thujone content. A boy must treat himself occasionally. I’ve heard from the Doctor again. It seems that she has taken her current team on holiday to Vexus 3 : the holiday planet at the edge of this galaxy. So she’s sitting on some luscious beach sunning herself while we have all these problems on earth. Martha Jones says that she is thinking of moving permanently to Cambridge and Katie is still trying to set up her own rival organisation to Operation Delta. If the former is depressing beyond words, the latter just makes me want to break things. Life can be one long sigh of sorrow.
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Post by sparacus on Dec 20, 2020 13:54:19 GMT -5
Sunday 20th December
I suppose I ought to write some more of this diary before the year ends, depressing as it is to reflect on these endless lockdowns. Thankfully Cambridge is in tier 2 however London is now in tier 4 and I desperately wanted to take Julian shopping in Oxford Street, Harrods and Selfridges, followed by an absinthe at the Cafe Royal. However every cloud has a silver lining as I now have a high quality excuse not to visit my parents in Wiltshire over Christmas. I have no desire to hear my father trying to excuse his latest tryst with Madame Camboux, while mother plays the martyred wife. Both the Mermaid Wine Bar and the Blue Angel Jazz Cafe are back open again, as they serve substantial meals, so myself and Julian spent yesterday afternoon in the Blue Angel listening to cool jazz and sipping Courvoisier. I am allowed to travel to tier 4 but only on Operation Delta business apparently. I was tempted to claim that out shopping jaunt was an alien investigation however I really can't risk getting caught as out government funding is precarious. I received a Whatsapp message from Katie earlier; she has been arrested at an anti-lockdown demonstration. This is the second time and hopefully all of this will reduce her chances of getting funding for her alternate organisation. I want her back in Operation Delta, there is only so much of Martha I can stand. I'm hoping for a peaceful Christmas, I'm currently listening to Bernard Haitink's excellent recording of 'Peter Grimes'. Julian is sleeping.
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Post by sparacus on Dec 27, 2020 14:05:14 GMT -5
Wednesday 23rd December
I feel bemused and drained after learning that Cambridge is to be moved into tier 4. That Hancock person announced this earlier just as the delivery chap arrived with my wine and spirits order. Thank heaven for online shopping as the Mermaid and the Blue Angel will now both be closed. All because of certain lowbrow people from higher tiers pouring into our historic university town . I saw a group of women earlier today shouting and guffawing with no social distancing at all. They all had dyed black hair and were letting their children run around screaming in packs. I went into the Mermaid for lunch with Julian and they were playing ‘I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday’ followed by that awful Fairytale of New York thing and Chris Rea. I rang Luigi and had him bring Pears and Britten’s excellent recording of Schubert’s ‘Winterreise’ song cycle, which I made them put on. I will not have the Mermaid playing lowbrow Christmas music while I am in there, even if they do employ Barry Tuck. Winterreise made me sad and melancholy and by the ‘Hurdy Gurdy Man’ song I was in tears. Tuck was boasting about how pleased he is to be furloughed again. Mother was on the phone earlier. Father has upset her by suggesting that Madame Camboux be allowed to join them for the festive period as she cannot get back into France. Mother threw a plate at the wall, it was part of a set. Katie is back in Cambridge, so she’ll be locked down here. I may try phoning her later behind Corinne’s back. Meanwhile the languid winter sun has descended on another grey, dank day.
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Post by dalekcheese on Dec 28, 2020 6:58:31 GMT -5
The best piece of non-fiction writing I’ve read in many a year.
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Post by sparacus on Jan 3, 2021 14:49:17 GMT -5
Thursday 31st December
Happy new year to all of my many admirers, even though you won’t read this as it is a diary. I am enjoying an absinthe and an exclusive chocolate liqueur.
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Post by sparacus on Jan 3, 2021 14:50:37 GMT -5
Sunday 3rd January 2021
It is the new year yet it feels like the old. I feel subdued, strangely lethargic but with the dull ache of brewing anxiety clutching at my heart. Julian is being very attentive, yet I cannot get out of my mind the possibility that he is growing tired of me. He was attracted to Erik, the Norwegian guy I met on my latest adventure. I had a text from the Doctor today, wishing me a happy new year. At least that was something but when I texted back asking for her help with the Covid crisis, she went back to ghosting me again. She said something in her first text about Yaz having issues, something to do with drugs. But can't she multi-task? Surely she can deal with this Yaz companion and also help the planet with the pandemic. The 10th Doctor could have done this. Outside, Cambridge is damp and cold. The Blue Angel can't even do food deliveries as the kitchens need rebuilding. So I'm relying on the Mermaid. Vernon Holmes is trying to buy the place so that he owns both. I've informed him that I expect the same standards of cuisine to be maintained. Barry Tuck may be hideously lowbrow and foul-mouthed but at least his Greek salads are toot p quality. But I think I need to rest now. I've got Philip Glass' 'Low symphony' on the stereo. Sweet dreams to me.
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Post by sparacus on Feb 6, 2021 15:35:07 GMT -5
Saturday February 6th
February is unrelentingly dark, wet, grim and muddy. Today the clouds hung over Cambridge like shrouds of doom as the rain was driven down by an unrelenting wind. This lockdown is really getting to me now. There have been no major new cases for Operation Delta since Christmas and I fear that even the aliens must be self-isolating. I jest, however it is rather mirth inducing to contemplate a hoard of Sontarans holed up in their spaceship with only each other for company. The bickering would be something to behold. Julian and I are bickering more and more due to being trapped in this flat. Corinne is still insisting that we conduct meetings vis Zoom and Microsoft Teams rather than in person. What on earth is wrong with the woman? I've listened to Bowie's entire back catalogue, including the official live albums, over the last week, from start to finish. It was like a beacon of hope amid the boredom. Oh well, life goes on.
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