Evening sky line

It struck her all at once that dealing with other human beings was an awful lot of work.

Joop is cooking porridge. Lucy has already left and the offspring troop through on their way to work or school. I wander to the station to await my train. It is late.

In Edinburgh, I visit Cucumber’s colony at the Melting Pot. Then it’s up to Red Box on West Nicholson Street where I catch up with Ian. He joined QSS when I worked there in 1998 and stayed on as it became Telelogic then IBM then Persistent. He’s still there. I was gone within the year.

I walk to my car at Cameron Toll, a conference call proceeding via phone/Zoom/earphones. Still talking, handsfree, I drive to Straiton. I get supplies and continue home, a new conversation unfolding over the ether.

The house is immaculate. Sheets and towels go in the machine, laptop onto the table. The afternoon disappears.

Egg fried rice for tea. Young Guns. Late night sales emails. The usual.