I'm musing this afternoon. Office is deathly quiet, as is common after most people indulged in a heavy leaving do last night for a colleague. I was very daring, and indulged in half a pint of Pedigree. I know, I know, I'm such a hard-livin' gal. There are reasons for this reserved behaviour. One was I was driving home. Nearly an hour's commute on roads varying from the fast but boring to the quite intriguingly twisty (with added potholes and humungous combine harvesters at unexpected moments for that extra spiciness) mean that, notwithstanding drink-driving laws, you really need all your faculties fully intact to tackle my commute.
Secondly, me and alcohol do not get on too well. Let's put it this way - I like it, it does not like me. It has issues with my metabolism. Instant hangovers or racking aches like I've got the flu are the result. This is Not Fun.
Finally, I realised a long time ago that I don't really mix well with people. I don't fit in too good - you've heard of "always in the kitchen at parties"? That's me, not due to shyness, but simply that I don't seem to slot into the same world as other people for long. Oh well. I prefer my reality, thanks. It means I don't end up singing karaoke in front of my boss.
I was just having a cigarette break, and pondering the weather. I emerged, blinking owlishly, from my office into blazing sunshine. A couple of hours earlier it had been blowing a Force 9 and raining horizontally. I realised this is one of the things I love most about Britain. We have proper, quality weather. It is a whole source of interest and topic of conversation in its own right. Other places just have climate. They must get so bored.
I just wish it would stop piddling down at the weekends.