Spelling errors abound. These booths are not the best for touchtypists.
Strange day. Started with a whinge. Still shaken by a slap-in-the-face moment on Saturday. Pinned all my hopes on a brief slice of lust. Perhaps my best actions are left un-thought. Heh, is that a real word? As it goes I have had a fairly alright working day. Few queries. Lots of work across Southport. I know all this is of interest. We have all been given a booklet about customer relations, from which we must revise information for a phone based touchbutton exam. I hardly dare to consider what would happen if I fail.
So now, then. I long for escape. I mean “holiday”, not asprin-and-a-cold-river, although the thought did once cross the mind. It leaked onto my diary’s pages but that often makes truth un-true, sometimes even false. I long for London again. May go, to escape for good but still to return forever. There is “freedom to…” says Aunt Lydia. I search for “freedom from…”
No ideas and no plans. This will continue thus until the next time. As I write, excited train spotters watch agog as a newly painted Transpennine Express slugs into the station. If speaking into a dictaphone “135! 135!” whilst watching a train pull in has any basis in logic, please advise.