Pillow fight, pillow fight

For each book I produce I have notes, which I sensibly use to remind myself about aspects of said book. TodayI went to check something as was about to email the author and came across this: 'Author is insane'. Useful.

Last weekend was slightly more energetic/booze-filled/tiring than I had anticipated. The perils of last minute drinks on Friday with Dan, Alex and Nic - this swiftly turned into a Tequila Hunt. For the record, it is hard to find the good tequila on the Strand.
Not enough sleep and then time for luncheon on Saturday at chez Kruse. Only we had to drag Mike away from the telly, which had the Tri Nations on - he is a firm believer that if you yell at the telly, things will get better onscreen.
Kruse lives at Oval - when we left Stratford it was a murkyish day - 30 minutes later when we climbed out of the tube station, Oval was sunny. There was a farmer's market - with cheese, truffles, etc., and we indulged. Got into an accidental conversation about how downloaders are responsible for EFTPOS machines taking so long at the booze shop. To be fair, it wasn't really a conversation, it was a man ranting. The owner, who still had my card, so I had to listen.
And then an afternoon of drinking Lindauer, which Kruse had found somewhere, eating roast lamb and generally talking quite a lot of nonsense - before we toddled to the pub for one last drink because Skye insisted. I was already late for my next appointment, but she's quite convincing when she wants to be. So jagermeister all round. And then again. And then I made a break for it, sensing that if I didn't, I'd never leave. So only made it to Lauren's place two hours late. Just in time for a sleepover. Only, as we were both extremely tired, we managed two drinks, excellent soup, 15 minutes of Labyrinth (David Bowie in tight pants - who wants to miss that?) before we both fell asleep at midnight. There were no pillow fights in beribboned, lacy negligees and definitely no sniffing of each other's hair - as was suggested might happen.

Sunday - I cleaned the bathroom. Lolled some.

And today I handed in my resignation. Eight more weeks and then unemployment looms. But so does New Zealand. And my workmates are envious that going to New Zealand for four months is even an option.

So home in ten weeks - just in time for summer. And a hair cut. Which is the real reason I am coming home. There's no stylist like Bran.

What does worry me is how much it's going to cost to post my shoes home.