Got a haircut, then spent all day in front of the PC, working through the list of computer-enabled errands. Stock market has been beyond depressing.
Watched a previously recorded movie – crap. At least, the football season started, caught some games on the late-night re-cap.
Woke up at 8 in the morning. On Sunday! With nothing to do!
The weather is entirely repulsive. Still, would rather go to some museums in Central London than stay in front of the computer.
Royal Academy of Arts has a nice Impressionists by the Sea exhibition. Not as good as some of the previous ones we’ve seen, but nonetheless, several gorgeous Monets and transcendent Renoir’s Children by the Shore.
Stopped at Starbucks for the tea and sandwich – yeah, I know, pitiful, – and the phone rang. Spent next half an hour exchanging news with a 7-year-old who started conversation with “Daddy, I really miss you”. The day could not be brighter!
National Portrait Gallery is surprisingly engrossing. Not a big fan of portraiture as a genre, but the overall excursus into British history is rather stimulating.
Hateful drizzle. Nothing to do for an hour so. Walked to the Victoria Tower Gardens, found a bench under heavy canopy of trees, and spent time contemplating the flowing Thames.
Met up with good friends at a restaurant. Conceptual and slightly upmarket establishment in an otherwise nondescript area ways from the city center. Good food, great company, but bartenders performed their usual fumbling dance around the order of screwdriver. It’s only vodka and orange juice, stupid! On the rocks! And thank you for confusing me with the international man of mystery, but it’s stirred, not shaken.
Couldn’t resist turning computer on to check emails. Pathetic!
Had to get up early to interview a French guy for a new position before standard office hours. “Early”, “French guy” (as opposed to “girl”), plus there is technically a hiring freeze – so many negatives combined in a single hour…
Meetings, emails, phone calls, more meetings – the usual day in the office. But I am leaving early today.
Nine holes of golf at an unassuming short local course with acquaintances. Putted well, chipped abysmally, lost a ball on the last hole, and only made a handful of good swings. Never came closer than a double on any hole.
Nineteenth – or tenth, as it were, – hole was nice, though. A pint of lager and some unhurried conversation in an uncrowded pub – just the ticket.
Meetings, emails, phone calls, more meetings…