4:00pm.
Afternoon exhaustion, crawling with tiredness. No reason to be tired. I slept well, and for seven hours, but not as well as the night before where I slept for longer, even though the flat rattled in the wind and kept me awake. ‘Like it was trying to tear itself apart’, Andy commented.
Just gone to the toilet, then went to the break room to get a coffee. The break room smelled of the past, of a certain kind of summery emptiness, like spending Saturday evening indoors (how you long for the pub on certain early June days!). Even if you are expecting to spend Saturday evening inside, on these certain kinds of summery days, it always feels there is something that has gone missing, and something oddly nostalgic (but not in a good way) about it all.
Feels summery again today, and I feel better after the apocalyptic gloom and Armageddon-rain of Tuesday.
Just got back from printing up my letters. Stood by the printer watching the sun fall on West Street four floors below. The pavement looks hot. A girl skips by. People look like they’re on holiday. 6:00pm suddenly seems like a long way away.
My body is thick with the sluggishness of too much ice-cream, which is a lie as I have not had ice-cream for. It is that similar unpleasant heaviness though. A heavy dinner and a bowl of ice-cream, crawl to bed with a cup of tea, and long evenings open up, and the air is heavy with June and your stretched stomach is uncomfortable with digestion and you fall into a fitful sleep, and when you wake it still hasn’t got dark.
