Monday 25th February
And all too soon we were heading back to England; only a four day trip unfortunately. My daughter organized it all, and really it was too short a trip. But enjoyable all the same. And now back to reality. Another few weeks of work and it will be Easter and I will be out again, and this time I intend to stay a full week,
But what is reality? Is it the nine to five drudgery of work, the weekly repetition, the slog and boredom of producing numbers which nobody bothers to read, the getting up each day at six, the standing on the tube, the battling through the wind and rain, the sheer monotony of it all.
Or is it waking up in France, popping to the boulangerie and paying four euro’s for a loaf of bread and four croissants, walking to Kismet, wandering around the markets, smelling the fresh fruits and vegetables, the wonderful array of cheeses, the charcuterie stalls with weird and wonderful sausages, the fresh bread stalls, the little man selling his honey, the single chateau wines, the rolling countryside with the vineyards and sunflower fields, the warmth and coffee smell of Kismet, Le Pub Gambetta with Simon lane singing his acoustic folk rock on a Friday night, with Rupert joining in on the chorus.
Which is reality? I am not sure which is which anymore. For a while it is the former reality, but more and more I am leaning towards that other reality.