Four o' clock Monday morning came too quickly. That's when the first alarm went off, and continued going off for forty minutes before either of us woke up properly. Lee was out of here before five and it'll be another two weeks before I see him again. I felt as though I barely saw him this weekend. It went too fast, and I was too busy, and there was nothing I could do about it.
It was a weekend of The Velvet Underground and Bob Dylan, sneakily eaten bars of nutty chocolate, power naps, and a blow up behind the bar. I felt empowered for standing up for myself and storming into the kitchen to tell the head chef exactly how shitty I thought he was being, and then went on to tell Claire the same thing. Not that anything was resolved.
What a bunch of arseholes.
I slept in until after twelve today. I've done nothing but drink cups of tea and look through 'Little People n the City - The Street Art of Slinkachu'. My book I ordered off the internet arrived today. It's frightfully clever I think. It also makes me want to get the next train to Paddington and go wandering around the East End to look at the Street Art and the London folk go about their day on the public transport and on the streets.
I do love London.
I'm going to love Belfast too. Belfast is going to be awesome.