Salad and my struggle
Another phew what a scorcher kind of day in Brighton. I sauntered off to the gym late this morning after a fairly robust writing start to the day. A hot and sweaty business, but any feelings of virtue swiftly erased by glimpsing myself waddling out in sumoesque glory from the showers afterwards. Bah. Thence to Starbucks to drink tea, where I wrote for a while longer despite the presence of a young American woman with the one of the most window-rattlingly loud speaking voices I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. Even several tables away, with my earphones in, I could barely hear myself think. If you were on a sinking ship, however, she would be exactly the sort of person you would want alongside you on the tilting deck as the lifeboat approaches in the dark. Thence to Sainsburys where I met Lorraine and we sped home armed with salady bits. Some of which we ate when we got home. More work in the afternoon, a brief chat with Mum and then I prepared more salad-based repasts i...