Living my best life

Another beautiful day. Friday, so Lorraine off to give Story Time. I called Mum, and did a spot of light admin, then met Yvonne for coffee in the Grumpy Chef cafe, nice and funny to gossip with her as ever, hearing about her recent holiday, and the ghastliness of waiting weeks for medical test results, which were, it turned out, fine.

Then to Brighton for a much-needed haircut. Arriving a bit early, I bought a hot sausage roll as a treat from the real sausage company. Emerging from there I bumped into Anton, who'd left his desk to do a bit of shopping. He was in shorts and floral shirt with skulls and so on, and mocking at my long trousers and light jumper and white shirt. Nice to be in Brighton, thronging with people of all sorts.

Arrived early, but Stacy had finished his previous customer in record time, being a famously annoying local character, whose parting shots were to mock Stacy for his name, and telling him it was a girl's name. When I left some time later, shorn and suave, Anton and I met for a swifty at the Evening Star, and sat outside on the benches in the sun enjoying a cold beer, before he nipped back to do more work, and I caught the Seaford train. Lorraine in the back garden when I arrived, with two of her former headteacher mates.  My spidey sense made me swerve the conversation as it was heavily about work, which Lorraine doesn't much enjoy any more. 

Lorraine had cooked a beautiful chicken curry with dhal. Perfect Friday evening fare. Gold sofa, sipping sparkling water, living my best life.

A ladybird in our garden.