under another sun

Adam's ale Grim start to the day, foot extremely painful. Running late I set off armed with a hiking stick feeling tetchy and full of self-pity. Lorraine, qua rescuing angel, gave me a lift to the station. Sweaty on the train, next to a man smelling strongly of garlic, I tried to catch up on the concept work I could not do yesterday. Wet soap thoughts slipping away before I could grasp them left me wondering if I had lost 20 IQ points overnight, so tidied my stuff into my bag. Discovered that a capless pen had leaked all over my nice mushroom coloured trousers. Hobbled into work and drank four pints of water one after the other. Within two or three minutes my brain miraculously able to string thoughts together again, and I did more in the next ten minutes than I had done in previous hours. Clearly I had been badly dehydrated by painkillers and other pills I have been taking. Lunch a pleasant wander around the corner with First Matie to score baked potatoes. Helicopters roaring in ...

The return of Orc foot Bad night's sleep and woke to find the dreaded Orc foot had returned: I am hobbling again and grimacing with pain and a Sauron addiction. Cramped, uncomfortable journey into work even more trying. I like working in Tavistock Square however, and noticing as usual at this time the patterns made by the autumn plane tree leaves driven flat into the black road surface. Work fine, but the trains were doomed, which meant I had to hobble across town to take a different route home, thus galling ankle even more. Gah. The journey home was fine and I finished linished listening to I, Partridge, We Need To Talk About Alan , which was very funny in parts. Absolutely loving Just Kids by Patti Smith too. Delighted to get home, and revel on the gold sofa with Lorraine if only for an hour or so. And so to bed, feeling dead beat.