I was cloudy-faced supergrump this morning. All crust and no grace. I was just brewing up for a lovely lone breakfast when I bumped into the people I was to spend the rest of the next two days working with and I have to confess, my heart sank.
Nothing at all to do with them. They’re all lovely (and I’m not just being nice for the sake of it – they really are), but when I feel like that, nobody is a welcome sight. I do love to eat breakfast alone, especially in a place where there are lots of people being social. Breakfast is my one chance for blissful solitude.
I joined, but I wasn’t much company. I just couldn’t muster the energy. As the day went on, though, my face became human again. I haven’t had enough exercise (though I done a yoga this evening, a healthy sequence, which is good), but I mellowed over the course of hours. I miss the pond. Painfully so. Especially as it's so cold. I have my costume with me, though. Maybe the sea will welcome me in Worthing. Or a tarn somewhere near Bremen.
We worked hard today, especially after about 11. Lots of sorting out ofnotes and subsequent translation of them. I’ve done so much touch-typing that my wrist is complaining a bit. Satisfying, though. And Lucy is always such a peach, and Claire, Rebecca, Jill, Ian, the whole bunch. Warm, friendly, focused and very human.
A lovely bumping into of SJ, who was so supportive and wonderful at my first event yesterday (which feels like weeks ago!). I didn’t remember she’d be here, but it’s lovely to see her, and to get to thank her not through a fog of tiredness. And again, she was so positive. More gratitude.
And then this evening a lovely dinner in a pub that served Thai food and steak, so everyone was happy, with these three lovely people who, at the first meal of the day, just weren’t getting through.
So I have learnt: unless I ache for company, I shall eat breakfast alone in the morning. My colleagues are pre-warned and ready to pretend I’m not there, so I won’t have to wear a beard (shame) or a bag on my head (I can just imagine posting scrambled egg through a hole). They won’t take it personally and nor will they insist.
I am grateful for the unexpected discovery (twice in one day, both times a surprise) of my teeth. I’ve been carrying them in my laptop case. I still flirt like a beast and laugh a lot the second that they’re in. We all sat and laughed without stopping for about two minutes when they appeared in the pub tonight. They are just funny. It’s like an instant clown feeling. I might take them with me for my clown when I go and see Dr Browwwwwwn. They seem to work, and even if they’re just a reference experience, they’re pretty good.
I’m grateful for a lovely email from the Germans with the writing – I struggled sometimes with that job, but I’m a sucker for good feedback. And I got a similar one from WAGGGS, saying thank you, money on its way potentially more work too. Very grateful.
Texts from Ruth (I miss her), Juliet (lovely) and Rob (peach) last night. I’d like to chat with all of them. No skype on hand right now – no internet (this blog is not live, but will be posted during a tiny window of free internet, during which I have blog posts to write, emails to send and trains to book and search for).
I am sorry to hear of the death of Moby, my good friend Jochen’s dog. Moby was a proper seadog mongrel; a mix of every kind of breed; muscular, intelligent, excited by dolphins and orca, and a squealer at wheels. If you rolled a trolley along the ground, he’d bite at the wheels and make the best noise any dog has ever made – a kind of jubilant growl-howl.
He would sit up at the front of Jochen’s dinghy keeping an eye out for action in the sea. I never saw it, but I heard he was more than once flung in when the boat stopped too quickly. He had conversations with dolphins and he was besotted with Jochen, his owner. He had a wonderful way of sitting at the top of the cabin steps, with one leg dangling down, keeping an eye on what was going on downstairs.
I am grateful to have met him (and seen Jochen, on that trip). I send my love to him and Jochen. You made of him a happy dog. Goes both ways.
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