My five days in lieu of overtime, after a month and a half of working 16 hour days without a break, are coming to an end. Back to the office tomorrow morning, and to Manchester on Thursday. I could have stayed home and slept for the entire time, that's how tired I've been (and still am) but I did try to get out and about, because, to be honest, I didn't know when I 'd get out again.
Tuesday: friend waiting for me when my midnight train arrived from Manchester. Play Wii snowboarding until 3 am. May or may not be under the influence of herbal substances and fall off Wii balance board. Currie not amused.
Wednesday: wake up at 6:30 as usual. Forget I didn't have to work, and check Blackberry before getting out of bed. Realize wasn't necessary and throw Blackberry into hallway. Blackberry remains sadly intact.
Wednesday (much later): have world's longest bubble bath.
Wednesday (even later): finish world's longest bubble bath.
Wednesday (finally): get dressed and head out to meet colleagues at Moro in Exmouth Market for celebratory "holy shit, we're not at work right now" tapas, followed by table football at Cafe Kick. Am grinning so inanely at not being in the office that cab driver asks if I just won the lottery.
Wednesday (even later): Note to self - don't play table football against people who played for their Oxford college's team. Further note to self: tequila shots at 4 pm to brace oneself against onslaught of aforementioned table football ringers not the best idea.
Thursday: sleep in until noon. Correction, sleep until 6, get up, feed Currie, lay in bed with pillow over head and tell Currie to shut up until noon.
Thursday (later): clean bathroom for first time in approximately a month. Given I've been home two days in the past month, bathroom remarkably clean. Decide to give it a miss and watch "Dogs with Jobs" on TV.
Thursday (later): trundle down the street to Paintworks and buy some canvases and paint. Go home and throw paint at canvases for a few hours and produce unremarkable results.
Thursday (7 pm): time for bed. Art is tiring.
Friday: see Thursday morning. Currie gives up yelling around 10:30 and decides to sleep in, too. Now we're talking.
Friday morning: walk to Borough Market. Stop first for a flat white at Monmouth Coffee. Visit Brindisa for padrone peppers and drunk cheese.
Friday afternoon: time for another flat white at Monmouth (hey, I'm on vacation). Wander down river past the Globe Theatre to Tate Modern. Stare open-mouthed at canvases for a few hours, then wander over Millenium Bridge, through the City, and back home. Dinner out with pals.
Saturday morning: can't decide if I want to hit Broadway Market, or walk up to Angel and see a movie. Get on the 394 to Broadway Market, but it's on diversion, and goes in the opposite direction completely, and I end up in...Angel. OK, time for Plan B. A little sushi at Yo! Sushi, then espresso at Tinderbox before seeing "Vicky Cristina Barcelon
a". Love it. Visit "Choosing the Chintz" at the Geffrye Museum. Feel obligated to go as who has a museum within half a block of their house? Currie taking sleeping-in thing too seriously and is still in bed when I get home.
Sunday morning (3 am): woken by drugged-out neighbours playing techno music (usual weekend practice). Also as usual, rendezvous with other neighbours outside druggies' door for a chat as we wait for them to answer so we can yell at them. It's nice to catch up.
Sunday: Currie and I spend the day in bed and re-read all 4 of Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart novels, then watch "Rachel Getting Married" online (sssh, it's illegal). Re-invigorated after napping slash reading slash watching for 10 hours, then spend until 2 am re-arranging art in flat. Currie elects to stay in bed.
Monday: the novelty of the whole spend-the-day-in-bed thing not worn off. Currie and I go for round 2 (although we do have a bath and change pyjamas). Watch "The Godfather," "The Godfather II," and "The Godfather III" in succession. Laugh when Sofia Coppola gets shot in front of Teatro Massimo in "The Godfather III," then feel bad for laughing. Watch "Lost in Translation" and "Marie Antoinette" out of guilt. Currie purrs her way through "The Godfather II." Take this to mean she is a fan of young Robert De Niro.
Tuesday: force myself out of bed at 9 am, get dressed, and down to Canada House to pick up passport. Wander across to National Gallery. Say hello to new Titian, have tea and a scone in the Cafe while looking out on the square. To Soho Original Books for a wander (in the real book section, not the XXX section), then to Taylor Street Baristas to meet friends for coffee. All but one have to cancel because they're working. Hah. Smugly wander home past office, and fight urge to go in and see how things are going. Currie still in bed when I get home. Am noticing a trend.
Tuesday (now): have quiet nervous breakdown at thought of going back to work tomorrow. Currie still in bed.