Noticing things
Still feeling cheerful. Helped by not having to work on the train first thing. End of week-ish and a bit braindead. Bought tea from man on the The Daily Grind stand, and shunned my sweetener as more news this morning that artificial sweeteners in soft drinks increase your risk of dementia and stroke. Listened to the football podcast. Brighton a.k.a. The Seagulls, are about to be promoted to the premier league, which sets up the potential for loyalty dividing Chelsea V Brighton football matches.
A gleam of various ideas of things to write, as I walked from St Pancras to the office. Noticing things again.
Keith and I were given quite a bit to do. After takeaway sushi lunch, there was the usual agency Friday afternoon crisis, with work that needed doing urgently at 5pm. We pulled it off, and I still managed to catch the 18:08 from St Pancras. Another drunk on the way home, in a very smart suit in his early 40s, who sat down heavily on me then, having muttered in apology, lolled about asleep, and on three occasions tried to rest his head on my shoulder. My patience wearing thin, if he had done it a fourth time I was tempted to punch his head. Luckily for both of us, some spidey sense in him prevented this.
Home to Lorraine at last, thank God. And no French work to do tonight. Finally heard from my Paris pals, and they had liked the last idea I had sent to them last night.
The flowers I sent Lorraine had arrived during the day, as it is her birthday tomorrow. She had spent the day quietly working from home, but had also cooked us stuffed peppers which were lovely, these, abetted by a cans of lager, and a glorious encounter with the gold sofa was exactly what the doctor ordered. An exhausting week, but pivotal too.
A gleam of various ideas of things to write, as I walked from St Pancras to the office. Noticing things again.
Keith and I were given quite a bit to do. After takeaway sushi lunch, there was the usual agency Friday afternoon crisis, with work that needed doing urgently at 5pm. We pulled it off, and I still managed to catch the 18:08 from St Pancras. Another drunk on the way home, in a very smart suit in his early 40s, who sat down heavily on me then, having muttered in apology, lolled about asleep, and on three occasions tried to rest his head on my shoulder. My patience wearing thin, if he had done it a fourth time I was tempted to punch his head. Luckily for both of us, some spidey sense in him prevented this.
Home to Lorraine at last, thank God. And no French work to do tonight. Finally heard from my Paris pals, and they had liked the last idea I had sent to them last night.
The flowers I sent Lorraine had arrived during the day, as it is her birthday tomorrow. She had spent the day quietly working from home, but had also cooked us stuffed peppers which were lovely, these, abetted by a cans of lager, and a glorious encounter with the gold sofa was exactly what the doctor ordered. An exhausting week, but pivotal too.
Comments