Yellow face
Back up to the smoke, discovered on the train I had left my poems at home. Instead started listening to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, as recommended by Anton. Swedish intrigues, and quite enjoyable. Confirmed my order for flyers for the concert on arriving at work, and saw that Mum had sent me some excellent paintings of characters from Skelton Yawngrave.
Work fine, and had to present yesterday's concepts, and then sat with a freelance art director called Andy who was lately married to a woman from southern Italy. We were working in a little office, with this weird electromagnetic radiation streaming through the windows. Suddenly it was summery outside, with people shedding coats and jackets, to sit on the grass outside the office under the strange yellow face in the sky.
The rest of the office gathering around to hear a broadcast to all the agencies across their network. And I had to find another place to work before I broke into a bout of Tourette Syndrome. Overhearing vacuous guff about 'business philosophy' makes me feel maniacal. As I was leaving I overheard some distant American saying agency X got through its recent crises thanks to a near-mystical 'corporate courage'. You operate in a f***ing business sector almost immune to the downturn, you smug w***ers! I felt like shouting. Good I didn't as Keith asked me to come in next week, instead of Friday.
Felt buoyant and cheery leaving work. Suddenly it was a kind of weekend. Home, and Lorraine and I had a beer in The Battle of Trafalgar after she returned from visiting her mum and dad in Kent. All well in the world, and plenty of time to get myself sorted for next week.
Back up to the smoke, discovered on the train I had left my poems at home. Instead started listening to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, as recommended by Anton. Swedish intrigues, and quite enjoyable. Confirmed my order for flyers for the concert on arriving at work, and saw that Mum had sent me some excellent paintings of characters from Skelton Yawngrave.
Work fine, and had to present yesterday's concepts, and then sat with a freelance art director called Andy who was lately married to a woman from southern Italy. We were working in a little office, with this weird electromagnetic radiation streaming through the windows. Suddenly it was summery outside, with people shedding coats and jackets, to sit on the grass outside the office under the strange yellow face in the sky.
The rest of the office gathering around to hear a broadcast to all the agencies across their network. And I had to find another place to work before I broke into a bout of Tourette Syndrome. Overhearing vacuous guff about 'business philosophy' makes me feel maniacal. As I was leaving I overheard some distant American saying agency X got through its recent crises thanks to a near-mystical 'corporate courage'. You operate in a f***ing business sector almost immune to the downturn, you smug w***ers! I felt like shouting. Good I didn't as Keith asked me to come in next week, instead of Friday.
Felt buoyant and cheery leaving work. Suddenly it was a kind of weekend. Home, and Lorraine and I had a beer in The Battle of Trafalgar after she returned from visiting her mum and dad in Kent. All well in the world, and plenty of time to get myself sorted for next week.
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