I really liked meeting people today.
Sharing our maniacal joy over the sudden change in the weather.
Saying ooh and aah over secondhand objects.
But really I think I should have gone to London.

My first thoughts this morning were of mum and her dodgy eye. She underwent another procedure today and I should have been there. The fact that she needed to be at the hospital by 7:30 is irrelevant. I could have got the first train out of Southend and would have arrived in London by 7. Bugger.
When I mentioned this idea yesterday mum raised her voice saying one word. No. So being the dutiful brow-beaten daughter I obeyed. And instead of hanging about in a hospital waiting area I fritted away time and money in happy Hockley.

We chatted away just now like a couple of parrots. And her voice did what it always does, re-assure.
Aint nothing I can't tolerate or do.
She told me of the things they did to her eye and how she wasn't worried at all, not even when the needle approached. "Didn't care" she said "The nurses were rushed off their feet but very kind"
I heard the racing on t.v in the background, "We only had a small tickle" she lied, dad meanwhile hollering a few fucks at a jockey.
And this is my parents!
How they are how, how they've always been and how they'll always be. Me? For Christ's sake I'm of their flesh, can't be anything but an optimist, survivor, joker...
Right that's the love fest out of the way.

Tonight I'll be cooking Lasagne. And to make it more interesting I'll serve it naked.

Ta ta