Friday, 27 June 2003


Its the end of the week - waited for a bus to take me to a meeting in Archway for 30 mintues, consequently I was late, didn't have the number of the person I was meeting with (absolutely the WORST planning), nobody in my office was in at 9.50 to give me the number. However since it wasn't a high powered meeting once I had arrived and overcome the fear-of-being-late-thing (always the thought is worse than the actuality - in my field of work anyway) everything seemed to be ok.

On getting back to my office discovered (in the frighteningly mirrored lift) that I was also having a bad hair day - probably due to rushing out of the house with damp hair and running hand through it angrily waiting for the bus - wild untamable hair needs not to be ruffled when wet (causes it to curl and be flat in weird places).

So its hardly even lunchtime and I'm thinking about how nice it would be to have a cocktail on the roof terrace of the Fuel Bar in Covent Garden, watch the street performers and wave at the Punch & Judy clientele crammed onto their balcony. Sigh.

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