We decided in our infinite wisdom to book our train back to London, the day after the competition, after lunch, which would give us time to explore, have lunch and not have to rush.
Only one problem with that … the day before *was* the end of the season. Everything was closed. Including the Tower, the arcades and most of the restaurants. The town was closed. To top it off it was windy and bitterly cold.
We wandered for a bit; took a few photos; and had a hot chocolate ~ then we gave up and got an earlier train. So long Blackpool ~ until next year … hopefully.
When I was young I used to spend hours lying on my back watching the clouds go by, or I’d wander letting the pointiest edge the cloud tell me which way to go.
I’ve always been transfixed by clouds ~ I spend a lot of time staring out the window of a plane at them. They seem so solid, yet not. Calming.
These few are from my flights to and from Copenhagen this weekend
I popped in to the vineyard on Upper Street for dinner before my dance class this evening as I was ridiculously early and there was no way I was going to try and struggle home and back out again given the tube strikes. A massive picture of Dali is painted on one wall, staring down. I have no idea why, it doesn’t tie into anything else – but regardless it makes me smile on the rare occasions I come in.
In the end I was too tired to make my dance class and headed home.
I didn’t realise there was a tube strike today when I arranged two interviews. That’ll teach me to avoid the news because it’s endless misery. It was only on Friday when the recruiter sent me a message saying “don’t forget there’s a tube strike” that I realised, but one interview at 2pm in Mayfair, followed by a second in Old Street at 5pm should be fine, right. I’ll get a bus in, it should be ok, might take a little longer, but that’ll be fine, right?? Oh yeah … no.
After sitting on the bus for over an hour, I’d made it only as far as Euston, nowhere near Mayfair. I pushed that one back, thankfully a recruiter, decamped from the bus and hightailed down there in foot, in the cold and rain. Joy. Meanwhile I got a call from the 5pm appointment asking that it be changed to 4.30pm. If I left the first by 3.30pm that would give me an hour to trek across town to the next one – that’s fine, right?
I literally made it with 5 mins to spare to the second interview – enough time to change my shoes and de-dishevel me ~ well enough to look presentable(ish).
I walked 4.6 miles today, on top of two interviews ~ exhausting. (… the rest of the steps are incidentals, and arm movements) 😆
I can’t quite believe that my trip to the US is over, the last three weeks have been amazing ~ relaxing, exciting, terrifying at times (wedding speech), but overall just brilliant.
Spending so much time with my brother and his new wife, Melissa, was great – I haven’t spent this much time with my brother since we were teenagers I think, god I miss him. But it’s time to head home, back to reality and thankfully I’m back to health.
I *might* have upgraded to Business Class on the way back, after the free upgrade on the way over, I’d tasted all the joy of a flat-bed seat, how could I go back?
Note it’s human “traffic”, not “trafficking”… that’s a whole different topic.
Oh my god getting to work over the last two days has been an absolute ball-ache! Yesterday King’s Cross was evacuated for some reason [which was no doubt important, but nevertheless annoying when you’re already running late]. Today the Victoria line was part suspended and Finsbury Park station closed. By the time I got to KX via overground, that was backed up also … *this* is not the way to start a day.
Continue reading Human Traffic
I can’t believe that the last nine days have gone by so fast and I’m already on my way home again, it seems ludicrous ~ I demand a recount! But yet there we are, it’s a true fact, it’s the end of my holiday. I woke this morning to a message from my brother in the other room to say it was snowing. A more accurate statement would have been, “it’s been snowing all night”.
Continue reading The Long Slow Snowy Drive to Boston