The Gnome, imps, and Clangers,
Back to London this morning, rewriting the last four lines of my magisterial Moth Display poem on the train. I rewrote about 20 versions of the closing lines but yet there is not one that is right yet.
Waves of weirdness abating slightly about being in the agency again, and I enjoyed myself, and very nice to chat to people. Though the suggestion that they have another whip round for me as I left today fell on deaf ears.
It felt very comfortable to have worked with the Gnome for a couple of days; like putting on an old and extremely comfortable cardigan. We went for a fast beer at lunchtime at the dubious OSP pub, and he then left to go to Denmark Street buy guitar accessory Christmas presents for his musical family.
I repaired back to the agency to write about ailments of one sort or another, and chatted intermittently to another freelancer called Diane who was sat opposite me. She was very nice, and it turns out she and her husband live in Brighton, very close to Anton -and my next door neighbour (who moved last week) is one of her best friends, and she'd heard that I was a writer and lived next door - and even knew I had been burgled. Small world.
Declined an offer to go for drinks after work, and zoomed home feeling very cheerful. It really is the end of my working year, and I am booked to work on 2nd of January, so I will be starting the year on a working note too - which is always nice when you are self employed. Listening to the Amulet of Samarkand as an audiobook on Anton's recommendation. And this enjoyable, and well written, although it is in familiar fantasy territory: set in London, with imps, demons, wizards and non-wizards (known as commoners) etc.
Home and a cheeky Chinese meal, talking on my mobile as I picked up my free polystyrene crackers, to a gloomy work-ridden Anton. Lorraine braved the chilly night to drop round some software for me, and we spent a couple of hours listening to my randomiser on my iPod. Some of the music she said was plinky, and there was one she said was weird non-music like the Clangers. Charming.
After Lorraine left, I spoke to Mum who was back from holiday in Madeira, where she spent some time trying to catch lizards. Then, under many layers of blankets and my duvet, cringing onto a hot water bottle, to sleep the untroubled sleep of the righteous.
Back to London this morning, rewriting the last four lines of my magisterial Moth Display poem on the train. I rewrote about 20 versions of the closing lines but yet there is not one that is right yet.
Waves of weirdness abating slightly about being in the agency again, and I enjoyed myself, and very nice to chat to people. Though the suggestion that they have another whip round for me as I left today fell on deaf ears.
It felt very comfortable to have worked with the Gnome for a couple of days; like putting on an old and extremely comfortable cardigan. We went for a fast beer at lunchtime at the dubious OSP pub, and he then left to go to Denmark Street buy guitar accessory Christmas presents for his musical family.
I repaired back to the agency to write about ailments of one sort or another, and chatted intermittently to another freelancer called Diane who was sat opposite me. She was very nice, and it turns out she and her husband live in Brighton, very close to Anton -and my next door neighbour (who moved last week) is one of her best friends, and she'd heard that I was a writer and lived next door - and even knew I had been burgled. Small world.
Declined an offer to go for drinks after work, and zoomed home feeling very cheerful. It really is the end of my working year, and I am booked to work on 2nd of January, so I will be starting the year on a working note too - which is always nice when you are self employed. Listening to the Amulet of Samarkand as an audiobook on Anton's recommendation. And this enjoyable, and well written, although it is in familiar fantasy territory: set in London, with imps, demons, wizards and non-wizards (known as commoners) etc.
Home and a cheeky Chinese meal, talking on my mobile as I picked up my free polystyrene crackers, to a gloomy work-ridden Anton. Lorraine braved the chilly night to drop round some software for me, and we spent a couple of hours listening to my randomiser on my iPod. Some of the music she said was plinky, and there was one she said was weird non-music like the Clangers. Charming.
After Lorraine left, I spoke to Mum who was back from holiday in Madeira, where she spent some time trying to catch lizards. Then, under many layers of blankets and my duvet, cringing onto a hot water bottle, to sleep the untroubled sleep of the righteous.
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