Yoyo to Staffordshire

I’m back home. Enough of his nonsense. Staffordshire? I was there for just a moment. A flash. A Premier Inn, way too much red wine, 6 hours of snoring, a careful shower, milky porridge, three coffees and a yogurt, scrape the ice off Bergman, short drive.

Park, stand in a cold corridor saying hello to young engineers. Go upstairs. Help Ben run a workshop.

Then a tour of the campus conducted with great will and small competence by two young men in branded red hoodies. “This building is full of cool stuff. It’s locked.” “This building serves great coffee. It’s closed.”

Then bundling up materials for another workshop to come, and we are done. Back in Bergman and back to London.

Three and a half hours seems nothing after Uruguay. There’s less to look at out the window in this country. But the drive flew by even though I stopped for a brew at Oxford just as I was flagging. All the wine last night, then all the energy. I’m home and my flat is so cold. Jacket potato and into Bed once more, with the successful experiment of putting the electric blanket UNDER the mattress topper. No more sleeping on wires. All the warmth. If the flat burns down you’ll know why.

More workshops on Monday. Tis the season. I need to prep for the Monday ones as well, so I guess it’s an early bed before missioning out and into the big world. My face is a great big scab now after I sandpapered the front of my face off. Hello you lot. I’m back in London and active again. Hopefully see some of you soon…

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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