Distant rumbles

Lorraine and I back to work this morning. Lorraine off to school, while I, with a good deal of doomy trepidation, went back to my desk to consider the hostile future. Freelance work has been very thin this year, and my other projects have stalled or are on ice, and I urgently need to find a way of pulling myself up by my bootstraps. First however, a few wee bits that have been hanging around on my desk that I simply must finish this week.

Nevertheless, there were teas to be brought to Pat and Maureen in bed this morning. Maureen said she was going to deliberately disturb me, and she crept into my study at one point and sang lustily for a couple of minutes, grinning at me naughtily all the while. I bring it on myself, as I torment her lots too.

Betty came by at lunchtime and took them out in her car to do a spot of shopping in Brighton. I went for my regular constitutional up to the hillfort, listening to my new audiobook, another in the great lectures series, about life for ordinary people in the ancient world. On the way home I lurked about my local streets, having seen a map of where the bombs fell in Brighton, and tried to match the line of red dots with houses in local roads. The line of bombs crossed the top of Osborne Road which is the other end of the street we live on. I imagined how horrible it must have been to be cringing in our house, and hearing that string of seven bombs explode so close.

Back to work, for a focussed blast, before Beth returned with Pat and Maureen, greatly in need of cups of tea. I cooked some dinner, a simple roast chicken and veggies, and Lorraine returned from her first day, including a long meeting with her chair of governors this afternoon.

Beth left to do babysitting, and we all watched an early episode of Death in Paradise, before an early night.