Off the pop

Somewhat tired and wan this morning. Wrote to Richard on the train, and had a full day of writing about things that were complex but uninteresting. Got tetchy with a suit this morning in the office. Had a fairly successful teleconference, bought small amounts of food and longed for home.

Talking to a fellow freelancer this morning, who had just burned himself really badly on the steam coming out of the kettle. Turned out that he had broken his back in three places five years ago by coming off a bicycle. There are parts of his body he cannot feel, such as his wrist and feet. He showed me the blister. Nasty.

Home listening to Greene's Brighton Rock. Really beginning to enjoy it, and one of the houses Pinky the young villain visits is almost under the shadow of the viaduct.

Lorraine had cooked a coconut and fish dish for us this evening, which was delicious. But she got a call from Betty who was sick, and drove off in a mercy dash to collect her from London.

Meanwhile Toby and I walked down to the sea, and stood at the edge of the sea, waves crunching into the pebbles. The pier lights looking pretty. Good to have a walk after supper, and another long chat. Toby bought some maltesers on the way home. Good to to have a day off the pop (not drinking) too.