I arrived home last Monday. Took a while to unlag. I forced myself to stay awake for an ungodly patch of time, then slept like Gibraltar, figured I’d licked the lag.

No. It would bite me every day for the rest of the week. But I dutifully resumed my old life, marching to the office, working out in the afternoon. (Celebrated two years at the gym, and noted with preening pride that I had aged by 100 weeks but had added 30 pounds to every machine I did.) More disconnected from work than ever, though. I find myself taking a dog-in-the-manger persona in the meetings. (And there is nothing wrong with a dog in a manger.) When discussing the company’s newsletters, a PRODUCT about which they are quite keen, one of the social media persons said she enjoyed diving into a newsletter on a Sunday morning when there wasn’t much to do and she had time to explore and relax. I said this was true, and there was the germ of a great idea there - what if we added some comics, then - hear me out - printed it up into a colorful volume, and put it on people’s doorsteps as the dawn broke?

I know it’s oldthink but DAMN after a week of reading the Telegraph, a proper paper (sorry, Guardian fans) I am more convinced than ever of the superiority of print and the underwhelming experience of online newspapers. One morning I unfolded the Telegraph and there was a double-truck ad for Chanel - huge, pink. It made an impression in a way that a pop-up can’t. There was a page of small reviews - your eye skitters around, finds purchase on something because of a pull quote or a picture. The layout of the editorial page makes you feel as if you’ve stepped into a room full of interesting people.

The only analogue is my Apple News app, and then only on the iPad. It has depth and breadth. Many sources. No paywall. No pop-up boxes with ads or subscription offers. It feels like something into which you can sink, and no other newspaper site feels like that.

Ahhhh, I just hate where all this is going.

Anyway. Wonderful warmth when I returned. Lasted a day, and then the chill settled in. Bright sun and brilliant hues. October asserting itself with grace. It made me think of the forthcoming walks from car to skyway with the angry wind drilling down on a frigid day. In a week I'll shortcut through the skywasy of the 333, the enemy building. Oh by the way: they're building a coffee shop in the lobby!

It’s in the space previously occuped by . . . a coffee shop. They are gutting the coffee shop to build a coffee shop.

The next day:

I guess that was necessary for some reason. I love the way it reminds me of a 1997 video game.

Well, that’s it for the top of the fold today. Two deadlines on Friday morn, and there’s Thursday Night Football with the lads, since it’s a Vikings game. A nap was needed before, since I’ve been waking early all week long - and I like it. I do not mind rising in the dark if I know there’s imminent coffee and breakfast, and the skies will lighten while the jake is brewing and the eggs are sizzling. Or is there another egg word? Bacon sizzles. Sausage sizzles. Breakfast things all sizzle, except for toast. Never in your life has someone offered you some sizzlin’ toast.

I take that back. Just remembered something I saw at the store yesterday.

There is no God and the Lord of Misrule has overrun the land and all is dark, and our teeth hurt

I had to go through an overstuffed newspaper office, a place that seemed to be left over from the 40s and never modernized. Lots of old inscrutable equipment.

At one point I had to wedge into corridor that went to a skyway that joined a building of equal dimensions across the street - it was more of a supply house, and I needed to get some things. But they didn’t have what I needed, so I called a distributor. I was a bit hesitant to do so since the distributor was Obama, and he probably wouldn’t take well to the request.

Sure enough, he was irritated when I told him my name for the order and said I’d said some nasty things about him. When I asked for specifics he rattled off some quotes that weren’t mine at all, and I assured him I would not stoop to that low level of insulting rhetoric. The order was completed.

I ran into him later in the hall. He was wearing a seersucker suit and small glasses and had a puckered, peevish expression.

And now, a related feature that will provide some Friday amusements:

I just asked for a small English Grocery Store.

So damned literal. Or rather littral.

You can tell it's English! Flag and ships. Also, Erkocry Stor.

One of the things I always like: the approximation of products.

"Don't go there, the owner's always drunk."

The TV aerials were an unexpected touch, no? I'd have forgotten to add them.

Time for another color Lance, sent in by a reader whose name I have lost and for that I remain in a state of shame.

This one is just a mess.

One harsh dame.

Argument about what? And I assume Lance was brought up to speed about everything, fast.

Your answer is here.

And that's it for Fridays! Ha ha kidding, of course it's not.

Clarence Ashe and a tinkly guitarist going through the motions.

Clarence had but two eggs for breakfast, but was foiled, and bacon remained raw. Clarence, like many bluesmen, woke up that morning.

Appeared on the charts for one week. Says this site:

He reprised it in “Why Have I Had So Much Trouble” and used the backing track again to allow Glenda Dove to chide him on “You Jived Me Long Enough” as well.

We're done with the week. Or ARE WE? No: Substack and Curious Lucre.
Have a great weekend, and see you next Monday.