It is largely considered to be foolish to go to Brighton on a weekend, particularly if the weather is good. It becomes a puddle of Londoners lining the Airbnb coffers of anyone fortunate enough to have bought something here more than a decade ago.
Still, I came down. There’s a reason they all like it here with the big skies. And I can’t really pretend I’m anything other than a Londoner, having been part of the citymix for my whole adult life and most of my adolescence.
This weekend is rare chance for Lou and I to be in this flat at the same time. Now I’ve got two cats to think about, one down here and the other up at mine. If Lou was off on tour tomorrow then chances are I’d end up here for a few days. Thank the lord that Frank is brilliant with Boy. They already hang with one another all day and sleep at the same time. I don’t feel at all concerned leaving them together at mine so I can come down here.
Lou was supposed to be off to Bedford tomorrow to start rehearsals but the whole beginning of her tour has been postponed because of that disintegrating concrete nonsense. It means we can spend a tiny bit more time together than we expected. Hooray.
I’m relaxing. It’s nine and I’m in bed. Nothing I want to do other than stop. I dropped the tech van off this afternoon finally, and I’m happy to see the back of it as the adblue sensors were refusing to accept that it was refilled, plus it drove like a shoe. We got it back to Enterprise completely empty and in time. It’s done and I’m worn out. I couldn’t even eat my breakfast today so I’ve mostly existed on coffee and nerves. Now I can sleep in a puddle with Lou and Tessy.
AlBarclay 