The man that hath no music in himself

Not an intimation of mortality, just brief waves of dizziness when I lie down at night or rise in the morning.  I didn't even think to tell the doctor at my check-up the other day.

He was happy enough with my blood pressure. No need to increase my dose for the time being.  But I've put on half a stone in four months.  He said I should lose a stone or more, and he's right.  I'm well over 14 stone - and I've been tired.

Went for a walk yesterday, and even added a brief run back up the airstrip. As ever, thoughts were muddled: about books I've started lately and not liked, about the unproductive life, about how to go about building a barbecue and what I might do to surprise Debbie on her 50th. About how I'd likely do nothing about any of this. About the slippage of decades.

Watched a programme on Channel 4 about music: When Bjork Met David Attenborough. We saw the amazing patterns made by different sound vibrations on films of sand, and were moved by the impact of remembered tunes on the elderly in dementia. Attenborough talked about the evolution of the larynx, the sound of the lyrebird and the mathematical structures of music. Oliver Sacks talked about the brain's almost total engagement with musical sound. These old octogenarian boys can teach us still.

I was reminded of Lorenzo's melodious chat-up lines to Jessica:

And then, having backed Phil Taylor at 11/8 in the outright market, I watched the darts.