There’s a grey wash over the world today. That Autumn weather that can’t be arsed to rain, a dampness blown by the wind that comes to London every year. Matches the scabby building site view I’ve had out the window for the last month or two, and suits the way I feel, too.
It was Fin’s birthday at the weekend. (Ciara’s and Andrea’s, too). I drank an intemperate amount, and as a result had a hangover for most of the day yesterday, and feel washed out through lack of sleep over the weekend – six hours drunken collapse on Saturday night is not a substitute for real sleep, and it’s always a day or two later that lack of sleep really hits me.
All this means that I’m annoyingly behind on Stormbreak – I really need to be writing 6 or seven pages a day for the rest of the week to get back on course.
And, of course, today is Andrew’s birthday. I have no idea what’s happening for that.
But that’s birthday-and-going-out season over. It’s a bit under a month to the next birthday (Marysia’s, which pretty much marks the start of the Christmas season for me.
So, that’s my life. I have run out of party, and now must get back to work. Dang.