A Friday and Its Small Acquisitions

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoFriday again, and it arrives now with the quiet familiarity of an old acquaintance — the same face at the same hour, no longer surprising, still welcome. The week has a way of folding itself up by this point, and Friday is where the creases finally settle.

The morning clinic was a long one, but efficient with it, which is the best a long clinic can hope to be. There's a meaningful difference between a morning that drags and a morning that simply contains a great deal — the first wears you down, the second merely fills you up. This was the second sort. Names came and went in good order, the list behaving itself, and by the end I felt productively tired rather than simply depleted.

The afternoon turned to procedures, that more deliberate kind of work where the hands take over and the mind narrows to the task immediately in front of it. There's a particular focus to it that I've come to value — the world shrinks to a small, manageable size, and for an hour or two there is only the next careful thing. Then paperwork, inevitably, which has never once narrowed the world to anything but tedium, and I left late on its account, as one does.

Home, dinner, and then the proper business of a Friday evening: something to watch. We started Star City — the Soviet spin-off of For All Mankind, which Anita and I have followed faithfully for years now. It takes the same alternate history and walks it round to the other side of the Iron Curtain, all cold and watchful and grim in a way the parent show never quite was. Bleak, certainly, but compelling. There's something fitting about ending a long week in the company of people having a considerably harder time of it than you are.

And then the small triumph of the day, which had arrived earlier and waited patiently for attention: the Lofree Flow 2, finally here after its slow passage from China. I'd ordered it some weeks ago and half forgotten it, so it had that pleasing quality of a gift from one's past self. It's a low-profile mechanical thing, all milled aluminium and quiet, satisfying keystrokes, and I'm pleased to report it was better than expected — which, given my expectations, is no small claim. It types beautifully. It looks faintly too good for my desk.

This is, I should confess, the beginning of a plan. I've decided to buy one keyboard a month — a resolution I've dressed up as a measured, disciplined enterprise rather than what it plainly is, which is a hobby acquiring momentum. One a month sounds so reasonable. So sustainable. I'm aware of exactly how these things go, and I'm proceeding anyway, which is rather the point of a hobby.

So the week closes on a good clinic, a grim Soviet drama, and a keyboard I didn't strictly need. A fair haul, all told. The weekend can take it from here.