I have managed to slowly restart serious work at home: in my job it is the work at home that really matters. Anyway. Otherwise, I finished Woody Allen's Collected Prose — apart from two excellent pieces the rest is unremarkable and you should really stick to his films. I have now retaken up Kundera's Immortality, which I started last May and I abandoned because of DeLillo. I don't really know why I still read this guy. Maybe because he is Czech and Prague is the only place I have been where I constantly and genuinely felt like an uneducated, ignorant and unworldly peasant (mind you, I have never travelled outside Europe, politically speaking). I have ever since loved the city and, yes, I envy you KaaJ for going there for a year or half a year to work.
Today we had a large brunch gathering and our guests eagerly consumed what we prepared for them. Me and Jod descending from generations of mothers and grandmothers who only wished to have guests around so that they can feed them to nirvana, we were very happy. Their company made us even happier. It was also my kind of day: low heavy cloud, wind and rain (ok, you know by now I am obsessed, so pass). At some point I was orally relating to one of my friends roughly what I write in this blog on Outpost life and she asked the inevitable question: "So where would you like to live?" She did that in a polite and thoughtful manner, not in order to confront me as a never satisfied and whining compatrido bastard, for this I am grateful to her.
I am also thankful to her because I had to think how to best answer her question. So, where? In Compatridia? I would be jobless and Jod underemployed. In Britain? Well, only for all the money in the world (or slightly less), as this country is soooooo bad value. In France? Working as what? And where, in some tiny town? We are fine in the Outpost, thank you. In the great Kingdom of the Netherlands? Isn't this as well maybe just a 'sexy idea' (as NewYorker would put it)? Besides, what do I know of everyday life there? Except that it looks idyllically urban when sitting in a cafe in Spui watching ordinary people cycling and walking back from work? So I answered the most decent answer I could give: "I don't know."
Before finishing, my single New Year Resolution (in two parts), because New Year resolutions were invented to moralise people and infest them with guilt, which I resent.
I must listen to more Bach and at last buy Cosí fan tutte in one of the versions my landlady has recommended.
Finishing: read something really interesting, read Kumquatology.