Old paths

Off again to the smoke. Calliope yowling at me from the Twitten. Dragging myself unwillingly towards Glamoursmith, familiar walk through the graveyard. I'm getting on fine with Sean, although it is an odd situation. Being thrown together with someone you've never met, and tasked with coming up with lots of great ideas. But also quite fun too. I'm finding it tricky however being back in my old agency. Falling into familiar patterns, such as walking along the river path at lunchtime. I talked to Pat who was in Dundee for a football match, while I was looking at cormorants sunning themselves like little devils on the piles in the river.

Homeward train listening to the Robert Graves Goodbye to all that. Horribly fascinating, going from most of the book about the trenches, to postwar records of conversations with people like Sassoon, T.E. Lawrence, and even Thomas Hardy. Home and no nonsense business such as changing the water in the fishtank, with the cat paying great attention.

Below a cormorant on the Thames.