Getting on with things
Made a brand new mind map. Sent out my marketing book proposal for the umpteenth time, contacted my French clients, sorted out a trip to the smoke on Friday followed by a cheeky with Matt, spoke to Janet, organised a meeting with Jess Mookherjee, laundry, bins, spoke to Anton, tidied office and so on. A short walk listing still to C. Bronte's Villette, which I still love. Savouring this listen.
Spoke to Mum and Mas this afternoon a few times. Mas was having a medical problem, and I advised them to call 111. Having done so Mas was asked to go into hospital in the evening.
Lorraine feeling the strain before half term. Beth cooked, Lorraine and I took back the hatstand and two chairs used in the play back to the Duke of Wellington with thanks. Delicious dinner, followed by an early night.
During the course of the day I remembered Swifty and Amanda telling me that my old friend Neil, from my university days, was in prison. I googled him and found he had been a big news item in Scotland. Reading between the lines, it seems like he had some kind of nervous breakdown and was caught using his iPhone filming up women's skirts at a busy station.
Having lived with Neil for a year, and him being one of my best buddies at university this made me sad. I knew him as a sensitive young philosopher, a reader of Proust, a wearer of carefree boater hats, and someone I had many adventures with. I'm not saying what he did was right, far from it, but I've never had someone who was a close friend find himself in circumstances like it, and I felt sorry for him.
Spoke to Mum and Mas this afternoon a few times. Mas was having a medical problem, and I advised them to call 111. Having done so Mas was asked to go into hospital in the evening.
Lorraine feeling the strain before half term. Beth cooked, Lorraine and I took back the hatstand and two chairs used in the play back to the Duke of Wellington with thanks. Delicious dinner, followed by an early night.
During the course of the day I remembered Swifty and Amanda telling me that my old friend Neil, from my university days, was in prison. I googled him and found he had been a big news item in Scotland. Reading between the lines, it seems like he had some kind of nervous breakdown and was caught using his iPhone filming up women's skirts at a busy station.
Having lived with Neil for a year, and him being one of my best buddies at university this made me sad. I knew him as a sensitive young philosopher, a reader of Proust, a wearer of carefree boater hats, and someone I had many adventures with. I'm not saying what he did was right, far from it, but I've never had someone who was a close friend find himself in circumstances like it, and I felt sorry for him.
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