Monday, August 09, 2021

The March of Time

My brother John's not too far away today interviewing a client so he will visit this evening, we'll go for a drink then a curry and he'll drive back in the morning.

Both my diary and these spindrift pages say the last time this happened was at the beginning of March 2020, all but a year and a half ago. Chalk up (or is it down?) another withering on the vine to the malign COVID blow back.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

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