under another sun

Lorraine drove me to the station. Work. I took full advantage of my lunch hour to mooch along the canals. The folks I am working with are mostly decent. Snapping the painted heron on a waterside wall. I've enjoyed walking along the canals very much. There are pockets of beauty all along it, everything from the floating leaves on the dark water, to the reflections of brightly coloured barges. Some of them are stinky though, when their engines are working. One or two places along there river, there seems to be meeting points where a few bargemen (it's always men) gather some of them drinking from beer cans. When I walk far enough there is a stretch under a flyover, there are two legless armchairs propped against the concrete and barbed wire wall there. They make me wonder who sits there at night. Left pretty much on time, and trundled home reading the Solzhenitsyn, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich book. It is short, but unrelenting. In the last couple of weeks, I have ...

Went to bed at 1:30am last night, waiting to sign off a document. My colleagues, however, had simply not let me know that the document was signed off without me, despite being in constant touch till gone midnight. Deeply unimpressed by this, but I took the sensible decision not to rage about it. More luckily, however, I am going to be able to work from home after I get back from Vienna next week should they need stuff doing. So I will be be returning home (from Heathrow, gah) next Thursday with a song on my exhausted lips. Lorraine working from home this morning. Walked to the station. Feeling tired on the train and trying to meditate. Once at Paddington, it was a particularly busy day, juggling urgent jobs. By the afternoon a strange calm had descended, and I slipped away on time. I had managed to go for a walk along the canals at lunch too. Have been walking over 10k every work day. Home on time, and bought Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich at Vi...