BBC4 is doing a season of Slow TV at the moment. They're being a little non-literal (three hours of making a knife compressed down to 30 minutes, for example) but the aesthetic is there; an absence of music or voice-over, the soundtrack instead comprising of ecstatically detailed ambient sound; movement of viewpoint and focus minimised or eradicated; the hyperreality of blown up HD close-ups; an almost unhealthy obsession with the moment. This being BBC4 (home of the documentary) there are some facts in some programmes, presented as captions, which (for example) in the Dawn Chorus identify the birds. I did offer to pause it for timscience (cooking at the time) when a particularly handsome pheasant hopped up onto a branch, but he declined. "Isn't the point of Slow TV that you don't need to do that?" he asked, "You can just dip in and out as you please." Hmm. Or staring transfixed at perfect glistening dew-drops while trying to untangle the songs of a Stonechat and a Willow Warbler, maybe. Of course I'm vulnerable to this sort of thing anyway. I spent half an hour watching swallows being nearly blown into the Thames this evening (the swallows are back) (air-punch).
Then we watched an episode of Gotham to bring ourselves up to operational speed again.
Over the weekend I bought some New Horizon peat-free compost which the apprentice in the garden centre carpark assured me me was "uh, yes, fine for potting". It hasn't done a great job on the seedlings, but it has filled the shed and the verandah with the aroma of parmesan and startled cat. It's my usual brand for general use but this is the first year I've used it for potting. Maybe the last. Could just be a bad batch.
Election wipe has just finished. And tomorrow: the election.