Good news from Mum

Best news of the day was that on the way back from work, and walking up the hill I called Mum, who told me that the surgeon had called her, and they are going to do a new technique on her pancreas, rather than remove it. An oblation, which will require only a few days in hospital, and possibly see her released back into the wild the following day. This seems a really good solution, and means a lot less disruption for Mas too, when it happens, and I will be there to help.

 Work poor, and Keith and I in a low energy frame of mind. For all kinds of reasons I’ve not enjoyed this gig. It’s the people who are by and large pleasant, and I am fond of Keith, but there is something about a climate of disorganisation that pushes all my buttons. I have a deep problem with irrational authority. Scoring the days in the yellow padded cell.

 Home and very happy to be there and discover my lovely wife, who had just got back from pilates, and Betty in the kitchen. Griddled mackerel and a surprisingly delicious salad Lorraine had made using uncooked cauliflower as one of the ingredients.

This across the road from the exit I use from St Pancras station, outside the Francis Crick institute. A lovely building, but I couldn't help noticing the public art outside, what I can't help but think of as the turd in the piazza from my couple of months at the Architects' Journal,  is the exact shape of the spangles I get in my eye when I have a migraine, except the triangular panes shine different colours.