Damp and muggy

It was damp, muggy and still at Fisherrow when we popped there for a bit of exercise this morning. Well, I took a bit of exercise, walking most of the way up to the River Esk and back, but mainly Mr A played with his new toy.

I had written a long screed about memories and the importance of not chucking too much stuff away in the urge to declutter (I'm about to clear my office next week). It was self-indulgent stuff, to be sure, and I'm sure it's fine that the internet decided to eat it when I pressed the wrong key. Quite poetic, really, because part of the theme was about the limitations of digital traces if you go further back than about 15 years (I was trying to reconstruct in my own mind the times I had been to Bristol since I first visited in 1984 for a job interview). Probably about 10-12 times, if you include the several times I visited for personal reasons between 1984 and 1990 when I lived in Exeter. I remember being very impressed with Bristol in 1984, and I was upset that I didn't get the job. [The person who did has remained in the Law School ever since, but I don't believe we've ever met again...]. But the last few times I've been there (which was once a year between 2006-2008) I never got beyond the city centre, with the meetings I was at literally being held a stone's throw from the bus station where the airport bus rolls up.

It was therefore good to have a bit of a wander around Clifton and the University area. It's an interesting city. I can see why J and P, with whom I had dinner on Thursday evening, made a deliberate decision they would like to move there once their kids had grown up.