I struggled to get up again today. Bed was so warm and cosy.
But get up I did. Looking in the mirror, I felt I looked rough, so I took a little time to put some slap on. A bit of Benefit blusher goes a long way.
Armed with the decadent purple devore scarf that was once a secret Santa present, and my red and white poppies tucked in my ruby slippers brooch, I set of in to the chill.
I nearly didn't make the train, but it was delayed, and off I zoomed. Southampton Central, where I stood in the rain on a crowded platform. Then grabbing a seat, settling in to clear my inbox over a cup of tea and a kitkat from the trolley as the dreary south passed in a blur.
There was a bit of a kerfuffle as we neared Clapham Junction, as a drunk looking man in puffa jacket and baseball cap ran through the carriage. Well climbed over legs and feet as fast as you can in a crowded carriage. A disgruntled commuter was it hot pursuit, yelling 'Stop that man, he's a thief! Get the guard!'
After they had passed, the sacred silence of the railway carriage broken, my fellow commuters began chatting each other in indignant 'well I never' tones. And then the announcements started.
Prerecorded 'can the guard contact the driver'. Then the guard himself, 'If there are any off duty members of staff or police officers traveling, please contact the guard in carriage 5'.
A man in our carriage got up and made his way towards carriage 5. As he passed, I noticed a large and livid scar on his neck curving from left ear to Adam's apple.
When we all disembarked at Clapham Junction, British Transport Police were waiting to board the train. I climbed the stairs to make my connection, the man with the scar ran from one end of the platform to the other. I couldn't see if he was trying to aprehrend someone through the bodies on the staircase.
Morning excitement over, it was then on to the Victoria offices for meetings. I made the most of a day in the office and tried to clear as much of my to do list as I could in one afternoon. So much so, as I didn't leave until after 5.
I chattered away to a colleague as we walked to the tube, learning she too used to dance on tables at the Frog and Frigate. We both missed the rush hour tube entrance, failing that particular cognitive charge challenge.
The train home was less eventful. Between reading blogs on my phone, I watched the woman opposite me remove her gold glitter nail varnish through strength of will and picking alone.
Once safely back at home, having made Tom jump by sneaking in the kitchen as he cooked, and packed for staying away tomorrow, we sat down to a dinner of shakshuka, and a leek gratin. I convinced Tom we should do something nice with our evening.
Tom fancied some pfeffernusse, so we bimbled back out into the cold and rain to try and make it to Waitrose before it shut. They sadly had none in stock, so we went for a conciliatory drink instead. Over our beverages, we teased each other, and worked on a document of useful house quirks for the people buying our house.
It is now sleeping time, so I shall leave this here.
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