Mended

It's almost 9pm and it looks as though my technical issues may finally have been resolved! It's also still light outside, which I also find a little noteworthy...

I've spent much of the day unable to communicate with the rest of the world, frustrated with myself for having become so astonishingly reliant on my iPhone. It was a little odd to get a text message from Philippa at the start of the day which, because I had no contacts in my phone, merely showed up as from a number I didn't recognise. I had to ask who'd sent the text.

Still, when you're deep inside an orchestration, there's not much which needs to go on in the outside world.

Technology continued to break around me all day. Just before lunch, I managed to take out a self-service till at Sainsbury's, seemingly just by wafting a tub of soup across the lasers. It's an art-form, it really is...

After lunch, I took my computer in to be de-virussed by a lovely man at PC World whose accent was so impenetrable I simply had to nod and hope for the best.

Whilst waiting for him to work his magic - which he did in spades - I went to the gym, and sat in the car park for thirty minutes waiting for a space. They've started running swimming classes there for the wealthy kids of Highgate, who plainly need to be driven everywhere by their yummy mummies, so the car park these days is always filled with Chelsea tractors.

By the time I'd returned and sat down for a quick cuppa, it was time to retrieve my computer from Friern Barnet, which we did shortly before taking ourselves off to Brent Cross (again) to buy Nathan some shorts for his tour to the Midlands, which starts tomorrow. He's in South Pacific at Kilworth House in Leicestershire. For the second time in as many days we were the last to leave John Lewis. Being thrown out of a shopping centre two days running is the height of tragedy. Particularly when it's Brent Cross.