A feeling of completion

Got up for a wee and notice the time on Lorraine's beside alarm clock. Almost six. Shortly after, it made its infernal parping, Lorraine got up, dressed, showered, fed the cats, had breakfast and so on. I sat up blearily looking at my laptop and sipping the tea Lorraine had brought me. Then Lorraine said, have you seen the time? For some reason it was 4:44 and the alarm clock was wrong.

Shaken by this trauma, when I eventually got up I was full of murderous fantasies about what would happen to the solicitors if my house sale did not complete today. Went off to the gym again, to work out my grrring, and by the time I was home it was lunch time and as I ate a large ham and salad sandwich, I was emailed by one of the solicitor's underlings to say the sale had completed.  I had so little trust in them that I had to check my bank account online before I could believe it.

A huge amount of stress gradually lifting from my shoulders. And a glee at not having to deal any more with the tapeworm letting agents and solicitors. Free, free at last.

A night in The Basketmakers to celebrate Beth's birthday next week, as well as the house sale. I have to say that I did not drink in a particularly restrained nor sensible manner. Much chatting with Betty, who is having to act in a play which she is privately calling Cringe Theatre which is like Fringe but worse. Anton, Matt, Irish Tom helping Lorraine off with her coat and hanging it up for her, the impish Rosie and Laura. I was poured into a taxi towards midnight with Lorraine, Beth and Laura. Willed by Beth, it seemed to stop at Ace Pizzas, where it seemed rude not to buy a couple.

Below a snap of my lovely wife, my conscience in pizza matters, waiting with me at midnight. Beneath L is one of those random insect faced things you spot about the place.