More restlessness and head noise. I think getting out of town will help me level. I’m generally feeling a bit wonky at the moment, but like as not it’s just the change of seasons and this perpetual cold. We had a huge temperature drop this morning, and the gods saved it for the last day to drench me as I cycled in. I used to cycle to Guildhall back in the day, from Fulham, so I’ve got the waterproof trousers, but I didn’t put them on. Pre rehearsal ball kicking was done with half the lads in the room putting up with soaking wet trousers.
A good final day, and I’ll miss that regulatory of Clapham and the Forest bikes, the ease of the home base, the routine of the bath and familiar wind down into sleep, or the attempt at it. I’ve used all my minutes with Forest, just slightly prematurely as I’ve one more journey to make tomorrow, across the river to Culvert Tyres where Bergman is waiting with his shiny new wheels and wipers. They’ve been a good investment, especially considering the weather. I’d do that again.
A bit of a party tomorrow, nothing too crazy, after all I’m fifty. The flat is crowded with stuff and I’m halfway through packing for my time away so we will have to take things as they come. There should be enough chairs and if it gets busy we could go to the park if the weather turns good again. It’s hard to predict it right now.
And once again I’ve left it ages to write, got knackered, put my head down and remembered I haven’t done it yet. I might be well served to rejig the writing time, as this routine is out of the ordinary for me and my systems are getting spun out.
A peaceful evening, where I finally got round to Kondoing my underwear. Threw away a load of socks and pants. Wasn’t necessarily a proper Shinto fascist as if I only kept underwear that sparked joy I’d be going commando most of the week. But dumped a load of tattered, ragged or mismatched things and put the rest into my case for Stratford. A sojourn into clarity, but I’ve still got tons of clothes I literally never wear. The only things that get constant heavy duty are my T-shirts, and the rehearsal photos came back with me wearing one of my beloved old ones with massive holes in it. I know it’s about sentimental attachment, but an outsider might just think I’m a slob. Hey ho.
AlBarclay 