the sort of thing I used to say here

I noticed a few months ago that my preferred way of sitting on the floor has changed.

I used to really like to have one or both of my knees pulled up to my chest. It was such a characteristic pose that when my father was traveling and found a pin with a picture of a woman sitting that way on it, he bought it for me.

These days, though, I really like sitting cross-legged.

It's easy to put this down to ways my body has changed over the past several years. On the other extreme, it feels Pollyanna-ish to read it like my therapist does as 'increased comfort taking up space.'

Earworms

I’ve been listening to various recordings of Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd and while there are definite downsides to the resultant humming about cannibalism, the urge to sing “nooo plaaace like LON-DON” every time the word London crosses my path is much less of a problem than the urge to sing “OUT! ON! LEICESTER SQUARE! DIAMONDS DOWN TO MY DER-RI-ERE!” (from the finale of the deservedly forgotten 1965 show Baker Street, "a musical adventure of Sherlock Holmes.")

That being what played in my head every time Mrs K and I passed through Leicester Square tube station last September.

Which, as we were staying on the Northern Line, was A Lot.