in more eye-of-sauron news

I accidentally wore my linen suit yesterday, having got the day of a meeting wrong; so I was a bit relieved today to wake up and find the city overcast, because it meant I wouldn’t feel quite so silly in black wool crepe.

But it isn’t overcast. As I drove over Bernal Hill I saw the sun floating huge and orange through the haze. It’s not cloud cover at all, but smoke from a huge wildfire 200 miles away, north of Truckee.

And Pavarotti is dead.

San Francisco isn’t supposed to be shrouded in smoke; Sydney is the city with the bushfires. As if it weren’t bad enough that Jeremy is away on his third long trip this year. The time is out of joint. Come home, beardie man.

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