Jumping the gun

Coughed like a docker all night, so with an absence of brio I set off to London. But a walk from Embankment station to Tavistock Square soon perked me up. Part of me loves Central London especially in the morning. Had to flinch past the fountain in Russell Square as a huge flock of pigeons sped at head height at me. Odd sensation of having my head among the wingbeats of a speeding flock of birds.

A fascinating day's work. I was asked to write a fictional account of a man experiencing premature ejaculation (PE). Now that's what I call a proper freelance gig. Mercifully this is not a condition I know too much about, so had a quite detailed briefing from former close colleagues Lucy and Catherine. Apparently it is a condition that can be treated these days. This punctuated by an enjoyable gossipy lunch with Pat in a local boozer, where I had sparkling water and a slice of unusually gourmet Welsh Rarebit.

Walked back through London and then trained home without incident. A quiet night with fish and chips, and an England international football game on TV, where the crowd were booing poor John Terry, and a chat to Lorraine. And so to bed.