Flushed with success

Working from 7:30 on polishing one of the ideas I had yesterday to send off to mes amis in Paris, before going off to my stained glass class. I had the idea I'd have to do more work in the afternoon, but they loved the idea I sent them, so could relax. Having struggled a bit yesterday, pleased with this demonstration that I still have it. Enjoyed my class.

Had a coffee with Chris, Yvonne and Adele after the class, but was called by irate plumbers, as I was supposed to be in this afternoon.

Sonia here this afternoon, the first time I'd seen her in quite a while. Lots to say, and she told me about various archeological finds in Bulgaria and about a bridge called the Devil's Bridge, Sonia never fails to entertain me. 

Luckily the plumbers turned up promptly, and did the job rapidly and left. Finally we are rid of plumbers.

After a wee bit of admin then, flushed with success, I took myself out for a walk. Stopped to have a cup of coffee, feeling free and cheerful. Started reading a story, which I completed back at home, called No Time is Passing, by Robert Aickman, which may be the single most disturbing story I have ever read. An utterly dreamlike tale of about 25 pages. There are no monsters or anything explicitly horrific, but the left turns and use of language leave you questioning reality. 

Lorraine home for the half term. She came home tired, but happy to have survived. Off to the Preston Park Tavern for a quite burger bite and a couple of pints, before slipping home to bask on the gold sofa. Lorraine ate chocolate. I drank beer. Bed.