No Gods, no masters

Up and feeling curiously perky after a few days downtime. Walked down to Preston Park and worked on poems on the way up to London, trying to finesse a couple of poems about Chad that have not yet seen publication. The train slightly less crowded today, being the first day after Easter. Work fine. Although I had to fill some hours out on their timesheet system, which is the single worst system I have ever encountered. Took just shy of two hours to enter my hours for two weeks. Unbelievable. I went for a good walk at lunch, stumbling across the artwork below glued under a canal bridge.

Home slowly, as there was a track fire on the circle line and I ended up getting a bus to Victoria. Feeling fairly mellow about work, as I've only three days before I'm on hols again. I'm reading a book called The Year of The Hare by Finnish writer, Arto Paasilinna. Quite entertaining, and easy to read while on the move, being in short chapters.

Home late to my lovely wife, who had been working at her empty school, and been to the gym, then had cooked. We watched Star Trek, the new series, as a weening from the Cylons.

Below this piece by two artists called Osborne and Reichardt stuck under a bridge. I posted it on Instagram and Bob Osborne said he sticks them in place with grip fix to defeat souvenir hunters.