All of the plans I made this week have now been torn into confetti and sprinkled around the office. The train tickets and hotel booking have been cancelled. The bag full of neatly folded clothes at home will now not be required until next week. This is perhaps the final nail in the idea of doing a “Bullet Journal”, unless I wanted the calendar to look like I’ve invented a new form of written language where every completed line of text has a line through it.
One of my co-workers suggested that I should still go to Manchester, and tell work I’m working from home this week – and live in the hotel for a few days. If I was a better liar, I would have considered it. I guess you would still have to pay for everything though (versus cancelling and refunding everything).
So. I’m still here this week. Riding the newly renovated bicycle to work through the early morning frost – doing battle with the local army of trophy mums in their armored personnel carriers.