On Tuesday night, I will be getting the sleeper train to the capital for a bumload of meetings Wednesday, for which I have assured my agent I will be 'the charmingest motherflipper in London'. Note that I have been rewatching The Wire recently, and also that I didn't actually say that.
It's been a soiled dove's age since I was last in London (I don't know why all the swears, sorry), mainly because the Boy One has only recently started nursery all day Weds like his sister, making that the day I can go away and not leave Patroclus trying to run a copywriting agency whilst simultaneously looking after two small children who are constantly doing poos wees and sicks. I mean, she does have employees, but they are perfectly capable of sorting out their own poos wees and sicks, it's in their contract.
Anyway, I like getting the sleeper up, although you have to bear in mind the whole thing when the conductor person politely asks if you want a wake-up call at 7am is completely pointless, as the train gets in at about 5,15am, to the following station tannoy announcement:
TANNOY: ARGLE BARGLE BARGLE BARGLE!
... which works as a perfectly serviceable wakeup call all on its own, I find, in the sense that I scream 'ARGHWHATWAS THAT?!' and roll off the narrow bed onto the narrow floor, by which point I am almost completely awake. Then: meetings.
(I would be arranging to meet lots of lovely London people for coffees, but sadly it's looking my schedule leaves me about ten minutes in the middle of the day, then I have to get straight on the return train home again, booooooo)
I was going to write some stuff about pitching ideas, but my son has just done a big poo and REFUSES to sort it out himself.