Not a bomb but a damp squib

Somewhat stressful work day caused by work demands with the usual combination of urgency and lack of clarity. Relief provided by a bomb scare to the business next door, and we all had to shuffle out for some time past the three police cars that had arrived and stand by the river. Had an impromptu meeting over a pub table with our boss, and then returned to work for an ennui-inducing meeting that dragged on for hours.

Made a break for home, and got the tube and sat on something unspeakable and very wet, which I don't think was urine. Just managed to catch the train listening to podcasts of BBC foreign correspondents, to be in time for home delivery of food. Chatted to the lovely Sarah, and found myself channelling the ghosts of dragonflies she had de-winged as a child. They forgave her. Worked on poems and went to bed.