struggling for peace

There's no place of real and absolute peace in this mad world now. I am just sitting quietly here on the sofa, escaping a little of the heat of the afternoon while I try to expend as little energy as I can. (I worked hard yesterday. The price for that is no chance of any work today.) I'll probably try to have a little nap in a minute, but I'll just get this post out onto my screen first, because if I stop, the thoughts will fade away. J is off working in her pottery 'studio' – in reality what was the dining room of the house (who 'dines' at home these days?) – and she has her music playing as she works. It's an eighties mix playlist via Qobuz. It's horrific stuff. Rick Astley played on it just now. I was rick-rolled in my own home, independently of the internet. Bonnie Tyler is on now. J is 'singing' along. I could ask her to stop it, but I don't feel up for the fight. Our home is in rural Cornwall. There is a lane going by us at the foot of the front garden which sees maybe twenty…