¦ dialling in from Sky Bunker ¦
08:52 GMT, Sunday 16th March. I'm kneeling on my ergonomic stool, just touched down into the saddle, hopefully ready to start a very productive, and quite significant day. Bright yet grey sky above me, large drops of rain slamming against the canopy, the random surge and tug of wind against the eaves. Atmospheric... particularly as I'm in here, snug, wrapped in Starsky, bare legs ending in thick hand-knitted Norweigan socks; life-support blowing warm air from my right; a half-drunk mug of tea still warm on the desk. Random selction on the laptop is playing "Piano Concerto No. 5 in E Flat Major, Op. 73 "Emperor"/II."
I'm into the final dash to finish Shadows of the Quantinex. All the writing is done; I'm now into the tedious job of formatting the document (no artwork from Amy Armstrong other than the Chapter Starts), and ensuring all the bits are where they should be. I missed out on a potentially fab Friday night with my Viking half-brothers so I could "go to bed early!!!" in order to grab an pre-dawn start on Saturday. Which I did. Later on Saturday I smashed up an old wardrobe with my wonderful two-handed axe, outside the front of house (good territorial display to neighbours - all that was missing was a monkey suit and a piece of music I can't recall the name of, with some slo-mo added to the scene) before helping load the pieces into Jo's car so she could take it down to the recycling place.
Then I'm walking through a rain-lashed city centre- sans axe - and I realise I can't remember the last time I was here on a weekend. Grabbed a much needed haircut (first since November); feasted upon a Matador from PIEMINSTER, the best pies in the world, sitting in their open air bench style eatery, within the bustling market place of St Nicks, my breathing pluming in the cold air; then trudged through the rain to the Watershed, early for a rendezvous with a Yellow Dawn player (Mark). Had an argument with the manageress of the Watershed...I'd been sat there less than 5 minutes with my laptop open, doing some work whilst waiting for Mark, before she came over and told me to move to a stool & bench area...because I was taking up a table during busy lunch hour. I glanced across at several solitary people taking up whole tables with a newspaper and single cup of coffee... looked back at the manageress, my jaw dropping, my blood boiling, and she smiled, span on her heel and walked away before I could get a word out. I sat there, seething, and watched her walk across the cafe floor a few times before she finally engaged my eye-contact. I beckoned her back over with a curled finger. Come here. She walked over. I let loose. She backed down. A small victory for sanity.
Mark arrived. We created a new character for him. I was pleased how well the rules worked. Some people were sharing our table and took interest. Conversations flowed, they were intelligent, interesting and engaging people. A nice moment in the random gush of life. I said goobye to them; goodbye to Mark.
I've spoken to mum a couple of times since she confirmed her situation. She still sounds incredibly positive, which I think will be the biggest deciding factor in how she beats the big C, and how we deal with the stress of seeing her go through it.
Some sanity has come back into the workplace after a frantic and frustrating few weeks - new systems, learning curves - so I'm once again back into the very fortunate situation of looking forward to next week. Great people. Great company. Long may it last!
And finally, I have to take Swampy into a garage today in prep for her MOT. Fingers crossed they give her a good bill of health, because I've really fallen in love with my old banger.
Djr