Shadowland

Poor Lorraine really struggling with a cold this morning. But went to work anyway. I tried to write on the train this morning, but the pesky new Thameslink trains are designed by people who hate commuters, and there is no space for your knees nor any tables other than in first class. However a cheery Danish singer sat next to me at Gatwick and, not knowing the rules, spoke to me. She was here for the premiere of a film, where her voice was used on the soundtrack.

Walking along Tavistock Place (where Carl once lived) and enjoying the proximity, just one door between them of houses where the whimsical Jerome K Jerome author of Three Men in a Boat, fame, and V.I. Lenin founder of the USSR lived, sadly though not at the same time.

Keith and I given work only sporadically today. Went to the pub at lunchtime where I heroically had sparkling water with a squeeze of lemon. Warm sun today, and we stood upstairs on the roof of the building drinking coffee for a bit, looking down at our shadows on the floor below.

Home without incident, and bought some chips to go with some chicken Lorraine had just griddled. One day to go, and both greatly looking forward to the end of the week.

Below Keith and my tiny shadows by the arrow, and the spiritually uplifting interior of St Pancras, and plaques.