or so my Mother says.
“Willya not just write something on the blog there, now?” I’m asked.
“I will, of course….”
and then we shoot a blank ( a literary one of course. )

Little time for reflection these days, little time for noticing the little things I used to pick up on when sitting at my desk, reading my novel or updating my personal journal, or just general head-on-the-desk-post-weekend fatigue as was the case in Nihon.

The only thing which has struck me of late is this, and forgive the potential stupidity of it, but as I sat on a homeward bound train in Saturday, and the sky covered ove with menancing charcoal-like clouds, the carriage felt sombre. But who decided that black would represent gloom, and that the-end-is-nigh feeling…
that big light switch up there in the heavens, sometimes barely illuminated by a single 30 watt solas, and sometimes flourescent.

I’ve a sore back. I think it’s from lugging around secondary school books with me and a mother-fucker pencil case. I take the backpack to class with me, but I can’t help but feel that to be a “proper’ teacher you’d have something a bit more boxy and official to keep your things in.
I said to P. once, I think I’ll know that I’ve finally transcended the adult world when I lose the backpack. It definatey defies the clickey court shoes, sensible monocrome shirts and cardie look.
Still though, with all due prespect to the old North face ensembe, I will certainly be giving it a proper burial, as a symbol of my eternal gratitude of having been stuffed to the gills far too many times yet managing to “keep its mouth shut!”. Yep, I’ll have a big wake and you’re all invited!