Sand.

We traipsed a few grains of seafront sand into London over the weekend. A little symbolism.

The time had come round all too soon to wassail a few hearty hurrahs and bon voyages to Jules and Angela, as they prepare to move life to Bahrain – a country familiar with sand. The capital was suitably wet and windy to wish them off.

Their flat was heaving. And still half full of people wanting breakfast by Sunday morning. But even a hearty Sardinian sausage can’t properly compensate for losing your chums to warmer climes. But, in the end, Mr and Mrs CJ had, as ever, simply created another excuse to get a good group together to enjoy themselves.

It’s obvious a lot of folk will miss you in London, chaps. If any of our gang in Bournemouth decided to follow a star to the Middle East, or even Middle England, I know it’d be a trauma for the rest of us. Great holiday opportunities not withstanding.

Stiff upper lip, everyone.

—

This week is another one creaking at the seams here. Strategy and branding stuff close to delivery, plus various bits of artwork to get in shape and some more research to do for a music job. No complaints at being kept so reassuringly in shape in such tricky times. My brain may be close to full, but it’s a much appreciated problem for as long as it lasts. The problem or the brain.

But it’s a challenge coming up with good thinking while being mentally in a number of places at once. You have to keep coming back to things. Hoping you remember where you left them.

With all the GISBBI* running around already this year, though, sad to say that the laptop has been an invaluable way to make the most of time on trains and boats at least, if not beaches (you have to draw a line in the sand somewhere).

(*Gosh I’m So Busy Being Important)