The flat smells like lilies... the bunch of pale pink flowers I bought last week has bloomed and more than one has shed its petals. After about three weeks worth of sunshine and the mercury steadily creeping above 20 degrees, we are back to mid tens, showers and grey cloud. O Summer, where art thou, Summer?
There's been a tube strike. It started yesterday and it'll go on till Friday morning. Transport isn't crippled, but is extremely irritating. Thankfully I live around the corner from the office - an oft overlooked positive to living in the ghettos of the East.
I've lost my writing mojo. There has been scarce inspiration lately and I am not prone to look for it overly hard. Sometimes things just be that way. Sometimes the words go away and take a holiday. I'll admit that it's almost a guilty pleasure to not be working this hard; 50 hour weeks, then home to study Spanish or write, or to the gym to make 5km on the treadmill. The moment it all starts feeling too much like hard work, is the moment life loses its shine.
We went to Belfast, and have returned. Photos and travelogue up probably this weekend - right now I just feel like going to bed and sleeping. Ah sleep, that elusive dreamwraith that comes too late, stays too fleetingly. I booked my Egypt flights. Almodovar's new film is coming out next month and I be buying tickets tomorrow. The house finally has food today - the bare and bereft fridge shelves got too much for me after the third day.
VIP guests in 1.5 weeks, hurrah!
Pegs.x
Post a Comment