I work 3 days each week for a company that makes widgets or gizmos or something equally as boring, with characters straight out of a Dr Seuss book, somewhere in the north of England. For 2 days a week, I stay in my pyjamas until noon, listening to audiobooks or Mogwai, chipping away at my 10,000 hours, in a gloriously sunny room of one’s own. Once a month I go down to that London, eat real food, not wait for public transport, gaze at abstract expressionism, chuckle at installations, and wonder why I live in such a dull, lay-by of a town. Then I remember I don’t earn anything like enough to live near London.
Almost everything I write about here, could have actually happened to someone, somewhere, but I’m pretty sure I’ve made it all up. The people in these stories exist only in my head. I’ve picked bits from my travels and woven them together with snippets of conversations or places I’ve seen. They’re not real memories of mine.
My recollection can’t be trusted. It’s full of glitches, time lags and nonsense. I can guarantee it absolutely won’t be the same version of events that you remember.
There’s a smattering of swearing in this blog, hopefully all in context.
Odd opinions are mine alone, and no blame is attributable to anyone for anything they might have done. Sunk cost, living well, timing, self-care and all that. Besides, what good does it ever do to dwell?
Thank you so much for stopping by, and taking the time to read my mutterings.
I really do appreciate your feedback.
The four photos were taken ten years apart from each other…