Wan and sweaty
Off up to London again, rather wan and sweaty, however doing good work on the train on my poems, writing decisively and with clarity. Another pleasant enough worm-based day, though an undercurrent of frustration at being so run down and everything a bit of a struggle.
Through Facebook, learned from Diane in New York that MJ's son Jack has gone missing for three days. Jack is now 17 and obviously everyone is worried - though he was seen today in his hometown, so hopefully he's not gone too far or come to harm.
Went to lunch with Matty boy, who briefed me on something to do with the ghastly pulmonary arterial hypertension over a pleasant, and nicely priced Italian food, with some sparkling water. Interesting chats with him as ever.
The shower isn't working properly at the Twitten, so another round of expensive plumber-based activity awaits. Home early, a few minutes before eight. Lorraine still working at her laptop, doing her best to get through a nightmare week, so I cooked a quick stirfry. Left Lorraine to a cop show and wasted an hour failing to upload more photos onto blogger, and failing to copy tunes from one computer to another. And so to bed, after shaving off beard which I had grown tired of.
Reading more of the book Life of H.G. Wells: Time Traveller by Norman and Jeanne Mackenzie. Sadly entering a tiresome part about the Fabian Society storms-in-teacups.
Through Facebook, learned from Diane in New York that MJ's son Jack has gone missing for three days. Jack is now 17 and obviously everyone is worried - though he was seen today in his hometown, so hopefully he's not gone too far or come to harm.
Went to lunch with Matty boy, who briefed me on something to do with the ghastly pulmonary arterial hypertension over a pleasant, and nicely priced Italian food, with some sparkling water. Interesting chats with him as ever.
The shower isn't working properly at the Twitten, so another round of expensive plumber-based activity awaits. Home early, a few minutes before eight. Lorraine still working at her laptop, doing her best to get through a nightmare week, so I cooked a quick stirfry. Left Lorraine to a cop show and wasted an hour failing to upload more photos onto blogger, and failing to copy tunes from one computer to another. And so to bed, after shaving off beard which I had grown tired of.
Reading more of the book Life of H.G. Wells: Time Traveller by Norman and Jeanne Mackenzie. Sadly entering a tiresome part about the Fabian Society storms-in-teacups.
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