Nazguls, seagulls
Final day in London. Actually felt brighter today than the rest of the week. Had to finish French work at lunchtime. Ended up rather liking Ken, who I'd worked with for the last four days, and going a bit mad this last afternoon, and snickering at silly things, having spent the last four days slogging at a particularly thin brief.
Going back to Hammersmith has seemed at times like returning to the past, and is full of negative emotions. However these last few times I have not felt under the Nazgul's wing any more, and have quite enjoyed it.
Felt a joyful surge of happiness and was able to leave work on time and zoom back to Brighton. Listening now to A Passage To India by EM Forster. I have always thought of this as one of my favourite books, although I've not read it for at least 25 years. It is every bit as nuanced, bitingly observed and philosophical as I remember.
Home and after cleaning myself up, off to Lorraine's house where we, plus Beth and Mark went off to their local curry house for a meal and some cold beers. Beth and Mark doing The Tightrope dance en route. Lorraine had a particuarly foul week, and so there was some steam to be let off. Beth made me laugh by flapping one arm and curling the other against her, saying what's this? The answer was a seagull coming back from the library. This very much a Peter Kenny joke.
A nice end to a trying week.
Final day in London. Actually felt brighter today than the rest of the week. Had to finish French work at lunchtime. Ended up rather liking Ken, who I'd worked with for the last four days, and going a bit mad this last afternoon, and snickering at silly things, having spent the last four days slogging at a particularly thin brief.
Going back to Hammersmith has seemed at times like returning to the past, and is full of negative emotions. However these last few times I have not felt under the Nazgul's wing any more, and have quite enjoyed it.
Felt a joyful surge of happiness and was able to leave work on time and zoom back to Brighton. Listening now to A Passage To India by EM Forster. I have always thought of this as one of my favourite books, although I've not read it for at least 25 years. It is every bit as nuanced, bitingly observed and philosophical as I remember.
Home and after cleaning myself up, off to Lorraine's house where we, plus Beth and Mark went off to their local curry house for a meal and some cold beers. Beth and Mark doing The Tightrope dance en route. Lorraine had a particuarly foul week, and so there was some steam to be let off. Beth made me laugh by flapping one arm and curling the other against her, saying what's this? The answer was a seagull coming back from the library. This very much a Peter Kenny joke.
A nice end to a trying week.
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