I planned to write last night, but got sucked in by the World Chess Championship. Rather than go out for something to eat, I bought food from the supermarket and sat in front of the laptop in my hotel room, watching the games unfold. Before I knew it the evening had gone.
This morning the alarm woke me at 6am, interrupting a dream where my late father-in-law was telling me a story about a pub on a walk somewhere. Huge parts of the story have already fallen to pieces – it’s strange how dreams disintegrate in the minutes after waking up, even though they seem so tangible when they are happening.
It’s the last day on-site today – I fly home tomorrow morning. I’m not entirely sure where this week has gone, if I’m honest. One more day of sitting in a conference room, wrestling with the leviathan I have spent the year constructing. Plans are already being made for my return in the early months of next year.