It’s been a day when I’ve hurried from one thing to another, and I didn’t stop working until 10.30 pm, having started at 8 am. I say stop, not finish, and I’m very grateful to the Sage for saying that I’ve got all weekend to type out a big valuation. It’s mostly an update, but unfortunately when I transferred stuff from my old computer to this one, several years ago, some of it got corrupted or some nonsense like that (corrupted? what are they saying I made it do? Watch me in the shower? Look at pictures of naked men? Smoke small cheroots while drinking several tumblers of single malt? Pshaw.) This isn’t too awful when it’s only three pages to retype, but in a few weeks I’ve got a massive one to do, and that will have full descriptions of several hundreds of items, including where and when bought and listing damage. And the Sage appears to have promised to keep the cost to a minimum, so it’s a good job I’ll work for free (I am incapable of working for less than I’m worth, which is an absurdly vast sum, so I don’t normally charge anything at all, which makes me bloody popular, I can tell you).
Anyway, music was required. I’m spending the week discreetly turning down the radio in the shop whenever Eileen’s back is turned, and she quietly turns it back up at every opportunity. I find it hard to tune music out, so really nasty stuff hurts and even the innocuous stuff grates badly after a while, and Radio Broadland seems to go from one to the other with irritating regularity. I am mercifully alone in the afternoons and I take in my own music then, because Al has conditioned customers not to expect silence,
First, I needed soothing and Hoagy Carmichael did it nicely. I’ve adored him since the first time, decades ago, I saw To Have and Have Not. Bogie falling for Bacall, she having to hold her head on one side to stop from shaking and Hoagy singing about opium addiction. Don’t bother with the book, by the way. Bleak.
Now, I am listening to Okkervil River. They are so damn good.