Headless chickens

Back up to North Acton. Foggy morning and dreaming on the train about English Idylls, and having a room to write in that overlooked the misty spire I glimpsed.

Work a vile headless chicken environment, full of panic and stress. Kept myself level headed until just before I left. Disappointing myself.

Journey home all the never ending Monte Cristo audiobook. Lorraine had worked at home today, and gone for a cycle ride with Rosie in the evening, who had just returned from a Greek holiday. Had a cheery candle-lit supper with them and Beth and soon felt human again.

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