To Chiswick
Slept like a log, and as the new day dawned my guts were tranquil. I had a toast based breakfast, and Lorraine dropped me off at Preston Park and I trained up to Chiswick, to see my pals there. Had an idea for a new ghost story on the train, and started it quickly on my laptop.
Happy to be back to see my pals in Chiswick, as I'd not been there for two years. Good to see Matty and other pals there. And weird as ever, to leave their office, and find myself looking down at the flat I used to live in in my last year in Chiswick.
Only half day briefing this morning. The excellent brief, from a woman called Fi, appallingly, involved looking at the Bristol Stool Scale, and discussion of poo colours from a medical point of view. Something that brought the realities of yesterday to mind rather too vividly. Liked Fi, and it turns out she is a writer too, and we chatted lots in the Roebuck at lunchtime. Most of the team there, and great to catch up with Matty and also Lucy the poet, and meet some other nice folks. Slug also there for a drink. He gave me a hug, which was rather touching. Matty stood me some fish and chips and bought me pints of Guinness, which was very kind.
Home again, luckily not feeling like exploding. Luckily, as yesterday, there was no way to buy a ticket at Preston Park this morning. When I got to Victoria, the excess fare window was unstaffed, and the woman at the gates told me to buy a ticket from the crowded main ticket office. An offer I declined. So I only had to pay one way. After the untold misery of Southern Rail etc. this seemed like a win.
Lorraine, already at home, and phoned for a curry, which I picked up on the way home. Bloody cold tonight, and pleased to come home to Lorraine with a bagful of aromas.
Happy to be back to see my pals in Chiswick, as I'd not been there for two years. Good to see Matty and other pals there. And weird as ever, to leave their office, and find myself looking down at the flat I used to live in in my last year in Chiswick.
Only half day briefing this morning. The excellent brief, from a woman called Fi, appallingly, involved looking at the Bristol Stool Scale, and discussion of poo colours from a medical point of view. Something that brought the realities of yesterday to mind rather too vividly. Liked Fi, and it turns out she is a writer too, and we chatted lots in the Roebuck at lunchtime. Most of the team there, and great to catch up with Matty and also Lucy the poet, and meet some other nice folks. Slug also there for a drink. He gave me a hug, which was rather touching. Matty stood me some fish and chips and bought me pints of Guinness, which was very kind.
Home again, luckily not feeling like exploding. Luckily, as yesterday, there was no way to buy a ticket at Preston Park this morning. When I got to Victoria, the excess fare window was unstaffed, and the woman at the gates told me to buy a ticket from the crowded main ticket office. An offer I declined. So I only had to pay one way. After the untold misery of Southern Rail etc. this seemed like a win.
Lorraine, already at home, and phoned for a curry, which I picked up on the way home. Bloody cold tonight, and pleased to come home to Lorraine with a bagful of aromas.
Comments