No accounting for it

Nine hours sleep certainly helps things. Felt happy and cheerful this morning and simply got on with things. One of the things I simply got on with was popping into see my accountant who has an office near my work.

Seana is a splendid accountant, and gave me lots of free advice. I did feel slightly short changed that she wasn't wearing the leopard skin leggings, but then I haven't had a chat with her in some time. My Florida correspondent has taught me all about nail technicians lately, and looking at her nails, I suspect that Seana is intimate with one. She talked with passion and at some length about tax and the Chancellor's recent Budget, in such a way that it almost made me wonder why I hadn't opted for the fascinating life of an accountant instead of being a writer.

Into work, and only a few bits to do today. Regained my equilibrium thankfully. I also called the radio station. Spoke to the producer, and Anton and I will pop in next week to see what's what.

Went to the very quiet Blue Anchor at lunchtime, with the Gnome, Mike Ferg and Canadian Mark. We discussed briefly that they filmed a scene in Sliding Doors there. Mike Ferg said that his favourite book was Treasure Island and that he had 14 copies of it, including a version in German.

Worked on my poems on the train home, and then chilled out by swapping you tube tunes and chat with the lovely Sprinkles.

Below Canadian Mark and the Gnome pulling a David Lynch tribute face.


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