No commute this morning, so no iThing, no tails of grim encounters with the concentrated Surrey diaspora, no psyops-stylee preparation for a day of toil.
Not commute because today is a day of Working from Home, neccesitated by a visit from a Nurse. Sadly, I am not Benny Hill. Rather, my insurance company have some 'details' they wish to check on my medical records. This means that they are coming, quite literally, for my blood.
Anyway.
Presented with an unaccustomed unallocated extra hour before I buckle down (see last post... doing it again...) I've been pottering around the house. And all the while, this has been in my head:
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just one of the things I should have grown out of by now
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- Ex-pat Westcountryman, forced to live in London by brutal economic cash nexus. 32 going on 12.
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