Working on Sunday
Another deluge. The train slithering to London Bridge, and I got off amid lost tourists looking at maps. Claustrophobic Northern line to Tavistock Square and the day spent working on a pitch with Pat and Keith and a few others.
Then back to Kings Cross and down the tunnels to the Northern Line. The platform was crowded and when there was some kind of accident and cries from the other end of the platform, my claustrophobia kicked in and I had to find another way home.
Home to a plated up roast dinner, however, and in time to kiss Betty goodbye before she set off for college. Lorraine at home having been thinking about job applications which had driven her to sip wine in a slightly dismal way. Even inviting her to watch Chelsea beat QPR 6-1 on match of the day didn't entirely do the trick. And so to bed.
Then back to Kings Cross and down the tunnels to the Northern Line. The platform was crowded and when there was some kind of accident and cries from the other end of the platform, my claustrophobia kicked in and I had to find another way home.
Home to a plated up roast dinner, however, and in time to kiss Betty goodbye before she set off for college. Lorraine at home having been thinking about job applications which had driven her to sip wine in a slightly dismal way. Even inviting her to watch Chelsea beat QPR 6-1 on match of the day didn't entirely do the trick. And so to bed.
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