Morlock moments

Woken by Calliope at 5 this morning. Atrocious weasel falling off the window ledge behind the blind and scrabbling for what seemed ages on the edge of the radiator, like a feline Buster Keaton.

Up, showered and off to London, then listening to my Girl who played with fire audiobook again. Bought a cup of tea on the train and it was execrable, necessitating an undignified pursuit of the tea man, to get a new one without rancid milk. Then into the tube like a Morlock. Once out of the tube, and walking through Magravine Cemetery (a familiar haunt) I talked to the printer and to Richard, and was overcome by a wave of cheeriness on the way to work.

Working on concepts for an HIV pitch with a freelance art director called Andy, who is perfectly pleasant. For some reason we found ourselves in an arduous and unproductive slog through the day, with me developing quite a throbby headache making it even more difficult to concentrate. We are already we are behind schedule. Not helped by the project bring back so many vivid memories of the day Rosa died as I held her hand.

Cheery call to Betsy during the day. Then rewinding backwards to home. And, more excitingly... The files are now with the printer, and a Guernsey Double will be printed shortly. Betsy will come down to sign off the proofs with me next week, which is a boon. Then they will be shipped off to Guernsey, bar a batch I shall keep back for my, um, eager public in Blighty.

Below Morlocks.

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