Yesterday I was in London. It was essentially a school reunion. My two best friends from school - their children and one husband etc. It was very nice, actually - better than I expected. We spent the afternoon in a very posh Weatherspoons in Chancery Lane - Judges and Barristers kept walking past with their wigs on. They have both confounded nature and lack of nurture and become ridiculous over achievers - highly skilled and paid professionally - all 3 of us have Masters degrees - one has a PHD, and a BAFTA - both are happily married to former sports stars and their children are fantastic too - one is studying politics at the LSE, one is a radio DJ (at 17...) and one is the head of marketing for a major UK charity. I had very little to bring to the table. They both looked younger than me too, by quite a margin. By coincidence - my best friend here - who is a film maker - is in Manchester filming something Pinter for the BBC and met up with the radio DJ daughter at the same time (she interviewed him on-air once).
It was a lovely, warm, sunny day and I kind of missed London a bit. I always feel very comfortable there anyway. Even the trains were fast and on time. Being half term there were families and children everywhere doing 'fun' stuff - and I got off at Waterloo East which is probably a much better Station to use than London Bridge. I'l bear that in mind.
Sadly - it was inevitable that we would talk about Robert - my best friend from school, who took his own life in his early 20's because a woman he had fallen in Love with treated him quite badly. The last time I saw him they were together and he was glowing. I still feel some grief for him all these years later.
Lynda and Amanda are the only two people from 'there' who I still talk to - aside from very close family - and I'm happy to keep it that way.
It cost £23 return to London - almost 2 hours each way - and good value for money. It cost £8.50 to get a cab from the station up the hill to my house - 3 mins. And the drivers was, as usual - a miserable, prejudiced git.
Back home and I have more grief on that I can handle at the moment - I've been trying to get a decent financial advisor to talk about what I might be able to do with my mortgage going forward when the fixed rate period ends - and I honestly think I'm going to have to face some pretty hard choices soon. I can't do anything practical about that missing chunk of time and earnings. I'm getting pretty depressed about it now and not sleeping at night. I need to grit my teeth and take some practical advice. The stress is starting to effect me at work - and I really don't need that. Getting by on a day to day basis and paying the bills while I try and build the business back up again is exhausting enough -m but I still can't pay that old tax bill and I really need money for the house urgently. I'm not in a position to take stupid risks (not in my nature anyway) so I need to find some solution soon.
Over the weekend I watched (in the background) the original first and second series of 'Survivors' from the 1970's. It still holds it's own very well.
I had a tesco cheese sandwich earlier and it's really making me feel ill. It's Valentines day. As usual - I have not received anything. I'll probably get home and find something from a Baliff.