Revolving doors

Fasting bloods this morning, but my arrival wasn't announced so I waited in the waiting room, while the nurse waited for me elsewhere for 20 minutes. I'd missed the train I'd earmarked, but once aboard I employed the flask and scoffed lunchtime sarnies as I'd obviously not eaten. As the foggy world slipped by, I wrote the first draft of a poem, loosely based on The Door in the Wall by HG Wells.

Having been booked for two more weeks I felt in a good position running up to my Guernsey visit. However as the day wore on it was clear there was no work for me to do. I was borrowed, enjoyably, by a sister agency in the same building for the afternoon, brainstorming with two excellent women creatives. This may prove to be fortuitous  In the evening, however, I was told I was not needed tomorrow. Normally this would have only been moderately galling, but by chance I turned down the offer of a month's work with a new client at lunchtime, and I have paid for the week's travel too.

Left work at seven, some distance from being in a good mood. Arrived home to Lorraine just before nine, and had a large helping of Lorraine's particularly delicious Shepherd's pie and a sizeable glass of wine helped right the wrongs of the day.

Comments