In love with London most of the time

But sometimes, when the weather gets muggy, and all the people get tetchy, and the buses get sweaty, and the morning aches and the evening weighs an elephant, London isn’t that nice a place to be after all.

You know what it’s like when you know you’ve got time off coming, and you need it, and your body sees it coming a mile off, and shutting down in advance?

That’s me.

That’s been me, this week. And it’s been a stupid busy week, too, and all the time I’ve been thinking ‘next-week-move-flat-new-flat-sleep’. Concentrating on work, making sure I do everything I need to do, everything I want to do, and what’s more, do it well, there’s a voice in back of my mind saying ‘next-week-move-flat-new-flat-sleep’.

Sorry I haven’t been posting much. I’ve been doing more professional stuff, and I’m proud of that, but I’m not going to stop my blog, and I don’t want people to give up on me because they think I’ve given up on them, or my little boat, or um, you know. It worries me. Meta meta meta, whine whine whine, blog blog blog blog blog.

I’m very tired.

You know, I have said, in the past, that I’m a person that loves Ikea. Two visits in one week later, and the love is waning.

I can’t write about it yet. Because there’s at least one more visit to go. If not more.

Christ have mercy.

I will be onish and offish these next few days, forgive me. But will be when I can, and do, and will, or something. I mean it. And I’m very. Very. Tired.