Immensely sluggish, after a mere two glasses of wine last night, to the point where it took me two hours from formulating the thought that I needed to take a Nurofen, to swallowing it, and most of that time I was just staring dully at it on the table in front of me, wondering if I could get it to just jump down my throat and whether there was any way I could slope off to bed for half an hour, but then realising I couldn't even get up the stairs. You can imagine what an excellent day of work it was.
Bad skin (especially the bit I keep picking at).
Having one of my periodic (ie. 'regular periods of each day') fits of professional jealousy.
No French Masterchef this week due to football.
Both boys have stuck their hands together with Superglue in the space of 24 hours.
My stepfather is here, with a bag full of crisps and Caramels and he has just told me a stupid joke about Proust and Zola in a spa. He and F have been working on an impossibly complicated Meccano set of a motorbike that falls to pieces if you touch it.
I had breakfast with this lady, who is wonderful and for whom I'm doing a bit of work (possibly IN RETURN FOR A JUMPER) and who always cheers me up.
Had a lovely half hour at lunchtime with a bowl of soup and Educating Yorkshire. God, I love Educating Yorkshire, even though all those voices make me homesick.
I went to an amazing immersive theatre/performance art thing tonight, but I really need to do a whole post about that. For now I will say only that (i) I had to wear a leopard print blindfold, (ii) I was lucky I was wearing tights so they didn't wash my feet (IMAGINE, oh god, I feel weak at my/their lucky escape, the horror of my feet).
I have absolutely no photos to offer today, so here's one from Wednesday of L tormenting weepette with a chip, in a nest of shoes and plush dinosaurs. Another fairly typical scene.