The day’s first main event was work, and the persistent wrestle with the mysterious concept of coffee-making. The highlight was the delivery of ice cream arriving at precisely the moment I need a scoop of vanilla. Not for myself of course, but all in the name of excellent customer service.
Went to The Picturehouse in the evening with some of my compadres. The exact aim of this social venture was hidden from me, but I’m now certain of several things that transpired. Firstly, my intuition that my hunger would be cured without paying for any food was correct, with an accidental free pizza being given to us. The second was intense competition around the table tennis table, of which I was a minor contributor.
Many original, meditative poses were used in order to align my heart and mind, so that I could channel my entire fury upon that white ball. There were flying glasses, by which I mean spectacles, due to violent enactments of theoretical rallies that unfortunately weren’t realised. All I truly know now is that that floor was extremely dusty, as my bag and feet can testify.