O soothest sleep Decided, as there was nothing pressing, to declare today a PK holiday. Pottered down to the gym, ironed 10 shirts, organised and folded everything in my airing cupboard, and saw Lorraine briefly in the afternoon as she was working from home. I'm craving sleep. I want to drift my boat into a lake of sleep for several weeks. But had an extra hour today, and when not sleeping and pottering, I listened to A Passage to India again. It is such a good book, and it is pure pleasure to hear it read, and rapier sharp after the occasionally plodding Stieg Larsson. Calliope bringing big moths into the house all evening, accelerating past me so that I could not rescue them in their attempts to blunder free. There must be a poem in this somehow, to go with the Moth Display poem which I already have.
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A surprising offer Feeling utterly tetchy by the time I arrived at work this morning. However I meditated at lunchtime and felt rebooted afterwards. I was less tired today, and also less illish than I have been all week, which was nice. The afternoon much better and Ken and I getting on fairly well after a sticky start in the morning. Rather surprisingly the nice new MD at the agency floated the idea of me becoming its creative director. I told him that I am having way too much fun at the moment, but if an offer came along with lots of singing and dancing girls attached I would have to at least think about it. Naturally quite flattering to be thought of in this way, and shows that the work I am doing with them here is not completely wasted. Home, having to stand much of the way on the train. Finally finished the Stieg Larsson trilogy. The end was excellent. Then got on with some French work in the evening before going out to meet Anton for a drink. Calliope followed me to the end of th...
Writing with a white pen Mercifully my ankle didn't seize up in dreaded orc foot style, so made off for work reasonably adroitly. Lorraine, who had stayed overnight, made me a large cup of tea, which seems in the morning the kindest thing a human being can do for another human being. Up to London and another day frustratingly, blood-out-of-a-stoning with Ken the art director. Felt dizzy with tiredness for much of the afternoon, rectified only by a diet coke, and a word with myself. Only moment of creativity, writing on a window with a white pen, and taking photos of the words against the sky. Will upload later. May has well have used a white pen on white paper for all the use the afternoon session was. Home listening to the Girl who stirred the hornet's nest . As I sat on the tube, and the woman next to me had the paperback, and the woman opposite was reading The girl with the dragon tattoo . Shame Stieg Larsson, who died prematurely, did not see what a monster success his book...