Strung out

Up to the smoke again on a short train from Brighton. I stood up for a pregnant woman, and imagined a scenario where my leg was actually broken, and one jolt would result in it suddenly coming loose and hanging by bits of stringy stuff in the carriage.

Off to the usual place in Hammersmith to work on a slightly dull campaign about Multiple Sclerosis. A day when having a decent idea was hard work, and left to get on with it alone, which is always better. Bumped into a few chums, Rick and Perky, leaving work.

Then off to Wimbledon village up on the hill, to meet Marja and drink gin and tonic, and graze on overpriced bar snacks. Long and involved gossip: her life changing a lot at the moment. A fond farewell, then down the hill explaining to Lorraine about the leg/string business, but she seemed to be experiencing a mysterious compassion fatigue. Catching the tram back to East Croydon, and the train to Brighton.

Loving this track at the moment.... Listening to it 9o times on the train, arriving home at an unpleasant 12:20.