tales from an ordinary world

2002-11-26

Pushing plastic and wires onto desks, back and forth on an inside kind of day. Drifting in and out of a lunchtime conversation I'm unable to participate in. Slow progress on long awaited things. I woke up to a short, sharp downpour but in the early evening I trudged along Bridge Road in a more tired and lazy kind of rain, past a pub that advertised its "new summer menu". Even in the cafe, coincidentally covered letters reveal the word 'RAIN' in the pride of place on the back wall. The taxi driver has a comforting look, a moustache and a nice quiet voice as he talks on the phone in some eastern-bloc kind of dialect. Current worries cloud the things I should be thinking about, things I should be organising - presents, dinners, phone calls, gigs.