Twitching eye day
Missed my train having woken especially early to get the early one. Later trains cancelled so arrived late at work yet again. Work draggy with people (not me) getting heated and the long thing I am writing having all the goalposts moved again. My eye twitching off and on infernally, making it seem like I was winking at people who don't know me from a doorknob.
Bought an actual book of To the Lighthouse which I finished this morning on the train. Brilliant stuff.
Left work after seven and hopped on a bus which instantly became gridlocked. After ten minutes I got off and walked back to the tube station and went to Victoria via the rattling coffins of the Victoria line.
At Victoria, just missed my train, and instead caught a crowded train to Hove as the ones to Brighton were delayed. I politely asked a woman to let me sit in the chair she was blocking. Unfortunately she was a madwoman, which I had failed to spot. She began muttering and swearing and it emerged I had offended her by asking her to stand while the train was moving. People looking at me sympathetically, but a strange mood of benevolence to mad people had overcome me, perhaps writing about schizophrenia for the last week or so did that for me, or perhaps it was the can of beer I had purchased.
To Hove after nine, where luckily my lovely wife collected me on her way home from a work meal, and drove me to buy some fish and chips. Life is sweet. Drank another can of beer and a small glass of wine, rubbed Lorraine's feet on the sofa, and my eye gradually stopped twitching. I will finish this current job on Wednesday, and that will be a profoundly good day.
And so to bed, tired as a yawning dog.
Bought an actual book of To the Lighthouse which I finished this morning on the train. Brilliant stuff.
Left work after seven and hopped on a bus which instantly became gridlocked. After ten minutes I got off and walked back to the tube station and went to Victoria via the rattling coffins of the Victoria line.
At Victoria, just missed my train, and instead caught a crowded train to Hove as the ones to Brighton were delayed. I politely asked a woman to let me sit in the chair she was blocking. Unfortunately she was a madwoman, which I had failed to spot. She began muttering and swearing and it emerged I had offended her by asking her to stand while the train was moving. People looking at me sympathetically, but a strange mood of benevolence to mad people had overcome me, perhaps writing about schizophrenia for the last week or so did that for me, or perhaps it was the can of beer I had purchased.
To Hove after nine, where luckily my lovely wife collected me on her way home from a work meal, and drove me to buy some fish and chips. Life is sweet. Drank another can of beer and a small glass of wine, rubbed Lorraine's feet on the sofa, and my eye gradually stopped twitching. I will finish this current job on Wednesday, and that will be a profoundly good day.
And so to bed, tired as a yawning dog.
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