Flowing to deletion

Last day in London. Infuriating start to the day. A poem I have been slightly toying with suddenly clicked into place. The train and the journey disappeared as I typed my laptop in a rapturous flow state for one hour and ten minutes. Read it through and was delighted, convinced it was the best thing I have written in ages. I went to save it into my dropbox and by a bizarre and couldn't-do-it-again-if-you-tried kind of manoeuvre managed to delete the bastard thing irrevocably. I felt like crying.

The morning's work was fairly sparse, so I managed to reassemble something like the final version once I had calmed down. It isn't the same though.

Lunch with Slug and Karam, then a busier afternoon before being released back into the wild. Karam and Slug keen for an after work drink, however, and so I was happy to accompany them to the pub. Their respective other halves joined us there, and we had a jolly time.

Eventually, the call of the seagull grew strong in me, and after an interminable seeming train ride I was home at 11. Lorraine and Claudia had driven to London to help the sick Betty pack up her things prior to moving student digs. We arrived home at the same time and I had cheese on toast for supper, and chats with Lorraine and Claudia before a really welcome bedtime.