Angry old Rasta
No rain as my lovely drove me to the station, but oppressed by work this May day morning, having had something of a re-brief on a job, and only one day to fix it. But on the train I had an inspired twenty minutes, and fixed all the problems. Meanwhile Justin the art director had come up with a new visual approach, and so we cracked it fairly quickly and easily, and I left work on time, having expected a late one. However now they want me to present the thing, and I will have to be up at stupid o'clock tomorrow morning. Still, all's well that ends well.
Otherwise not much to report a bit of a walk at lunchtime, where I chatted to Mum about my visit tomorrow. As I finished the call, a spiteful old grey locked rasta on bicycle called me a shit, because he thought I hadn't got out of his way on the towpath with sufficient alacrity. What is wrong with everyone? Travelling into London etc. it seems that people seem to be on particularly short fuses. Home, nostalgically buying a magazine called Uncut which, this issue, was all about mighty prog legends Yes. Lorraine home when I got in and the lovely had cooked me comforting spaghetti. A bit of TV on the sofa together, and getting prepped for tomorrow. My shoes needed a shine. A decent shirt needed an iron and so on. To bed.
Below a glimpse of silver graffiti on a wall from the stationary train; waiting for the entrance to the tube to be opened due to overcrowding below; a glimpse of the canal.
Otherwise not much to report a bit of a walk at lunchtime, where I chatted to Mum about my visit tomorrow. As I finished the call, a spiteful old grey locked rasta on bicycle called me a shit, because he thought I hadn't got out of his way on the towpath with sufficient alacrity. What is wrong with everyone? Travelling into London etc. it seems that people seem to be on particularly short fuses. Home, nostalgically buying a magazine called Uncut which, this issue, was all about mighty prog legends Yes. Lorraine home when I got in and the lovely had cooked me comforting spaghetti. A bit of TV on the sofa together, and getting prepped for tomorrow. My shoes needed a shine. A decent shirt needed an iron and so on. To bed.
Below a glimpse of silver graffiti on a wall from the stationary train; waiting for the entrance to the tube to be opened due to overcrowding below; a glimpse of the canal.
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