I’m sitting with Shama and Emma and it’s half 2 in the morning and it doesn’t feel like this conversation is ending anytime soon so I’m starting writing now.
Alanis Morrissette. nineties music. funny how
nope things happened that thoughtline died
4:37
I’ve just said goodbye to the last guest. I’m only half packed.
What a night. I didn’t want it, in the end. I really wasn’t in the mood. Tired, whatever. Done with it. But there it was, an opportunity to be with people who have been part of this absurd journey so far. The people who came were absolutely the people I needed to celebrate for my fiftieth. People who opened thought doors. Old weird friends. I got a kilo of rice out of the ladies from the lady flat at Sprite, and it’ll be happyrice up in Stratford. They know how I like to eat in self catered digs. That’s my next few years of Thai curry sorted.
But. It’s ten to five. That’s posting time. How am I supposed to finish this? I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve been careful to limit the booze. Still a long night though. To give myself any chance of rational packing, I’ll call it s night now and see what sleep feels like. Got to drive tomorrow as well. yuk
AlBarclay 