Not entirely sure what’s happened to me this week, besides not going to the gym, getting more job rejections, wishing it would get colder more quickly, worrying about Troy Davis and listening to Ernie K-Doe on repeat. Other than that I’ve bought a lovely new jumper! Hence wishing the temperature would take a tumble. But more on that [beautiful navy fisherman’s knit] another day.
It’s hard to even comprehend the events that have unfolded over the last few days in our beautiful capital, let alone make any sort of helpful comment on the matter. Instead, I’m leaning on Ray Davies for a little help. If I was anywhere near, I’d be knee-deep in a clean-up operation. As it stands, I’m watching from afar and sending my concern/hope/love.
A long, arduous day of fruitless job-hunting. Fabulous for raising the spirits, no? At least I’m off out in a couple of hours. I only hope I’m better at eating food and drinking wine than I am at finding meaningful employment. One thing’s for sure: I know what I’m wearing (buying clothes is one thing I do very well, thank you very much). Oh and the soundtrack to my goggle-eyed day? Buffalo Springfield.
I may have mentioned Kitty, Daisy and Lewis at Glastonbury once or twice. So, I thought it would only be right that I share some snaps with you. Sunday lunchtime; we warmed ourselves up with Fisherman’s Friends and then headed up to the Fields of Avalon. Hottest tent ever (paper plates make great fans). I loved it.
No prizes for guessing where I’ve been. I worked like a nutter in the week leading up to Glastonbury (my pay-packet handily landed smack bang in the middle of the farm). And then we went to Glastonbury. And then we came back on Monday. And then I’ve been recovering. And now I feel ready to talk. Of course it was wonderful, if a little hard work on the mud/sun front. Lots of pictures to come. And talk of breaking through a fence to see Jarvis. Finding hidden treasures in the Bimble Inn. Falling flat on my face on my way in. Popping to Cuba (ok, Cubana) for cheeky mojito sugar-fixes. And eating an obscene amount of pies. You know, just the usual.
…that all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity, like emptiness and harmony, i need someone to comfort me…homeward bound, i wish i was homeward bound.
