Shagged out

My strange job this week took me to Perthshire -- up on Monday night on the Caledonian Sleeper, back on Tuesday night, into work on Wednesday morning with a caffeine high and sugar buzz from the nasty coffee and 99% sugar blueberry muffin they brought us at some ungodly hour of the morning.

I am sooooooooo tired.

Thought: it's the only type of train I go on that I actively want to arrive late, as later is more sleep. But even if there's more sleep, there's never enough, and what you get is disturbed by a) the train separating (on the way up) or joining together (on the way down) in the middle of the night; b) the fact that you wake up seventeen times wondering if you're nearly there yet and even if you should be you're often not because it's stopped for an hour in a random siding; or c) your bottle of water donking you on the nose because you left it on the little shelf and the train cornered a little violently.

I was madly grumpy last night, and don't feel much better today.

Also, today I made a work-related link back into a my former life: we selected two ex-colleagues of mine to organise a big event next year. I have no doubts about their ability to do the job, they are very skilled and very dedicated. But it's also kind of risky as there is another ex-colleague I really don't want in my life, and I drew a line a few years ago that I swore never to cross.

But times change, M's links into that life have remained, I like the people we'll be working with very much, and I think professionally it was the best option. So it was a grown up decision. I hope it works out.

A further ex-colleague from the same house of weirdness (though different wing) remains a firm friend. I gave her a ring last night. Only a conversation with the Lizard -- about her personal finances -- could produce the line "We talked to Mad Mick the money man but he's insane in the membrane!" I love her. The past ain't all bad.

joella