tuesday at marble arch

The roof is made of tin I think. Or I am high up enough in the building to hear unadulterated roof sound bytes, as it hails on a little w2 street. His room is a friggin mess, and I’ve added to it with a million computer cables drawn over the bed, and now two pizza boxes are sitting on the chair, feeling cheesy and bloated.
I caught up with some old friends today, and we made plans for Richmond instead of Brick Lane. I hope we keep them.

Inky is online, scolding away darkly, and talking about ice cream. I told her how my ear still aches from the long conference call I took on my mobile this morning, with a bunch of old Englishmen, where I made two peeps in total, of which the last one made it very clear that I had actually fallen asleep between them while my boss was talking. I have a zillion reports to do until Thursday, and not very much patience with the project at all, which is why I’m ‘working from (his) home’, to escape distractions. In the meantime the boy is intermittently emailing abut the same hailstorm, because his office is 5 minutes away. Which must mean the workday is over, mustn’t it? But no, he’s just a tease. Pleasant day, on the whole.
p.s.: even pleasanter evening... heeee

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