Hand out of the grave

Like the end of film Carrie, working on the job that refused to be die today even when buried and the last rites had been read over it. I had been booked to work remotely, which does not mean staring out of the window and not answering when people speak to you, but instead at home. Wrote the first draft of an advert about tooth decay and Lorraine used an iron and the power went. Fortunately this was a one off, but the job did not finish till gone five, having started at eight am. Feeling very frustrated at not being able to get on with all the stuff I need to do, such as unpack boxes, organise my life etc. not to mention my dimly-remembered life as a writer.

Cat politics still fascinating. Calliope rising to the top of the league now.

In the evening off to Matt and Wayne's place. It had been sunny all day, and hot and sweaty in the roof of the Old Church Hall, and they had arranged a barbecue. Naturally it began raining heavily minutes before it was due to start, but we all had a splendid time. Sam had arrived at the Old Church Hall shortly before we left so he came too, sporting his beret. We picked up Rosie en route. At Wayne and Matt's were Ruth, who Matt had been walking on the Downs with that day after drinking Brighton dry on Sunday afternoon after we had left them, Tanya and Catherine who I like more each time I meet them, Guy as funny and entertaining as ever, and John. Some great conversation, although I personally fell short of the full Oscar Wilde due to tiredness. We all drank and tucked into some nice food, listening to Matt's light jazz choices and chatting till late.

Lorraine and I taxied home shortly before midnight.

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