Bed before nine. In London. The windows are rattling in the storm. Boo jumped up on my bed briefly earlier but she’s suspicious of me at the moment and skittish. She’s a very tiny black cat. We are going to be friends.
The morning was interesting. How many of us were out by ten? I don’t reckon many of us. The traffic wardens were swarming like flies. Colin got a ticket with his car door open. Juliet had a guy trying to get her when Claire and I drove past. Fuckers.
Most of us with cars were operating the tactic of chucking everything into the vehicle so it can be sorted when we get home. It’s not elegant but it’s expedient. What a lovely last week, but full on, full of emotion and boozy. I’m glad I’ll be off to the seaside and the calm of Lou for a wee while shortly.
Claire and I laughed through a storm all the way to London and it was only really when I walked in the door and 19:15 happened while I was getting to know a small black cat that it occurred to me that the Othello slice of life has now shifted to make way for whatever is coming next. It’s been a ride and I’ve loved it.
Now I’m in bed with the electric blanket on and I was in the bath so long I’ve gone deaf in one ear. There’s a tiny black cat sitting contentedly at my feet. The second half of Raiders of the Lost Ark is still playing in the living room but I turned in. Too sleepy. I only get one night in my bed so I’m gonna drink it in, do a bit of languishing, snore like a chainsaw, see what time the cat wakes me. Apparently she’s fond of nocturnal cuddles.
I’ll try sleep with my left ear down in the hope I get my hearing back in the night. Clean sheets. Warmth and Brian for company. It’s been a good day and I’ve mostly avoided feeling sad.
AlBarclay 