The smell of burnt toast lingers in the flat in spite of all the windows being open. I overdid the toast this afternoon and it set the smoke alarm off and stunned the office boys downstairs who'd gathered on the front doorstep as part of their evacuation procedure. They were even more stunned when I showed up, in my short hot pants and pink cut off t-shirt (and my glasses) to reset the alarm.
Stunned and appreciative I think. Well, they looked pretty enthusiastic (and stared pretty enthusiastically too). Then I had to climb back up the stairs so they got a really good view, rear view that is...
Now I don't dare make another piece of toast.
Anyway, apart from my unscheduled exhibitionistic tendencies nothing of note has occured yet on my full day back in London. Slept in till 7. (I know, but that's sleeping in for me.) Went to an audition near the British Museum.
Dropped into Hummus Bros for lunch. They've put their prices up (apparently the cost of seeds and pulses is going up too - like everything else) and they didn't offer me the usual option of a free hard boiled egg. I didn't feel like a hard boiled egg today but it's the principle of it.
Called to make an hair appointment with Tommy Guns but they couldn't fit me it. Patrick has gone on hols so no haircut until he comes back week after next.
I'm slowly coming back to normal life and back down to earth. (It's all relative. Ask Einstein.) Disjointed, mock-discontent. Not disapproving (other than of Patrick's ill-timed holiday). Nor disengaged. Distemper: never! Disproportionate: always.