I was having breakfast with a mate this morning who had just started watching Foundation on Apple TV, and I warned him that the first series was a bit ordinary but that he should stick with it because it got so much better in the later series.
I saw somebody post a warning yesterday about the trailer for Project Hail Mary, warning of a major spoiler. I think I know what it is, because I read the book. And be assured I’m not going to blow it here.
As exciting as a new book release might be, it’s not as exciting as hitting a new 1RM in my deadlift, which I just did.
160kgs.
Now, Imma have a big steak.
I’ve been spending some time in the 1950s. The other 1950s, of course, which I buggered up jamming a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier into a wormhole and back to the Battle of Midway.
Would you like a peek?
(That’s not really a question, I know).
… or, if I’m being honest, finally an opportunity to eat pastry. Most Tuesday mornings find me in the city because Jane has her PT session at West End super early. I have a walk around the river, and then we meet at Strauss for breakfast, where every Tuesday morning we have the Asian chicken omelette with sourdough and avocado.
Does this look to you like a dog who didn’t steal an extra-large cartoon of eggs? Does she have the air of aggrieved innocence one might expect from a dog wrongly accused of stealing and scoffing fifteen eggs while the other dog was out on his walk? Does that tummy look somewhat distended to you?
I had a very grown-up weekend. Jane and I had lunch at a little French place down in the Valley, A la Bonne Franquette, a spot I’d never noticed before, but it was fantastic—then we caught Materialists at the cinema across the street.
I bought myself a new dictation rig, like actual physical hardware, this week. The Plaud Note Pin.
