That strange full-bodied melancholy of sunny Sunday afternoons when slightly hungover. Enough time to relax but too much guilt to be able to do that. Make the most of your weekend. That endless mantra. Everyone else is having Sunday dinner at some pub on Southover Street (aside from Em who is working). Slightly hungover and back at work tomorrow, I have elected to stay in (I have gone into town though and bought some albums -seven!- at Residents summer sale).
Al's 40th last night. Lots of people not seen since Al's wedding, nearly a year ago; Ben, Graham, Hazel, Danny. Kegs of beer in West Hill Hall. Those high windows, squares slowly darkening as it edged toward midnight. A taxi-ride home in the small hours for Em and myself, a deep sleep, then Sunday.
The strange melancholy of sunny Sunday afternoons.
4:28pm
