Following week upon week, working huge numbers of hours on an incredibly complex project at work, you would think a night off would be greeted with open arms - and yet I find myself sat here greeting the first minutes of Sunday morning with much on my mind.
The plan for the evening had been to go out to dinner in town with W and my brother in law, and try to forget about the rest of my life for an evening. I’m not sure quite where it started to happen, but as the evening wore on I found myself becoming increasingly detached from the conversation. I’m not sure if it was just tiredness, or if some secluded part of my brain was still working on programming problems - it’s hard to tell with me at the best of times.
The seperation struck home a couple of times during the evening - at one point while W’s brother had gone to the bar, her hand caught mine as I stared into space, and snapped me back from wherever I had drifted to - asking if I was okay. “Fine - just tired”.
While walking home through the dimly lit, deserted streets of Marlow I became aware that I had lost track of their conversation several hundred yards ago, and now found myself walking some way ahead.
Perhaps this is the Pisces side of my character living up to it’s stereotypical behaviour. I have no idea.
I should perhaps stop writing now, and reflect in the morning, by which time the alcohol level in my bloodstrea should have abated.
Observation of the night while “wandering off” - women are noticing me with long hair. This is both strange, unusual, unsettling, and yet secretly uplifting. I guess it has something to do with my subconscious search for approval - which is perhaps rooted in being shy, and a having a certain level of insecurity. I was always the gawky kid without too many friends.
It would be so nice to pick up some kind of time telephone and make a call back during those awkward years, and tell myself that - quite unbelievably - I would end up relating to women far better than men, and would end up with more female than male friends. Quite how I would make myself believe the make-up of my circle of close friends is anybody’s guess.
I apologise in advance for the predicted grammatical mess that this post must be comprised of. If I have any defence it is two pints of bitter, three pints of cider and a couple of shorts.