Strange, these bouts of lunchtime unconsciousness.

More dissipated beginning to the day: That must be Thursday I suppose – sort of get up, sort of sit, breakfast (no sort of about that, good to have some stability), and then get to work. Late. The bus goes past as I reach the junction, so it’s fairly clear which universe I’m in today. Walk to work, and do intermittent Maisying for the rest of the day. Except lunchtime, when I play the guitar and lie on the floor to sleep. Strange, these bouts of lunchtime unconsciousness.

Get home at 18:00, beating H home, and get chips for dinner. While I’m waiting for them an old lady comes in to get fish (and chicken) and chips. She says she’s 88 and they’re for her grandchildren, who’ve come to visit. But they still send her to get fish and chips. In retrospect everything she said was a complaint, but didn’t seem like that at the time. I suppose when you’re that age you’ve had a chance to practise niceness, which was picked up on by everyone in the shop, except the young man who came in, ordered his chips, waited, paid and left without removing the phone from his ear or breaking his conversation once.

Anyway, chips, TV (Buzzcocks) and DVD (Out of Sight).