Honestly, it's like this cat sees pyjamas and that's it, that's the sign. As soon as she sees me getting ready for bed, she goes mental. Like now. She's stalking my hands as I type. My fingers are not a gazelle, kitten, and you are not a lioness. So fuck off! Now she's just pounced at my face FOR NO GOOD REASON. I'm not above barbecuing the little mentler like a Peruvian gerbil. Or I could just shut the door. I'll start with that.
Amanda Dormon rocks. I had an evening hang-out with her after a day of work at Canary Wharf. She is massively good. Every time I spend time with her, it makes me happy. Let's do it more, we say, every time. Whatever happens, it's good when we do, so we will. However long it takes. Haven't seen Jochen Zaeschmar in aeons. Hope I get to soon. Haven't seen Hollenbubbla either. Sometime this year, maybe? Either way, I'm sure it will be fabulous when I do. When I got back to Hove, I opened the train doors to a wall of Brighton&Hove Albion fans. they crowded around this one door, full of goodwill and beer. It was hard to get through, but they seemed to be enjoying making it hard, which in itself was kind of entertaining.
I liked the man on the train who helped me get into the right bit of the train and seemed to enjoy talking to me, but kept his grumpy face on the whole time. And the one who smiled and made way for me as I moved (I was SO in the wrong bit). Thanks for this bubbling rumbly pit of excitement in my belly, tempered by mindful calm and breath, bubbling again, calming again. Thanks for the way it makes me smile. A leap into the unknown with both arms out, ready to fall, ready to fly, ready to find out what it's like.
Tomorrow: Ashtanga, Beectoreea Sandeesom een the eSky, jis, Rachel Rooney: Poet Lady, Anna and Si and Albie and Io (hooray!) and finalising that flight, which an email confirmed is held for me right now. Woop, woop!
Finally, thank you for a moment with Badly Stuffed Animals. I've missed you.
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