under a pale winter sun behind clouds

Get up, check how much sleep I've had (the Pebble tells me that) -never enough. Drag myself up, take the pill that I probably don't need but a prescription is a prescription, grab a change of socks and underwear, wake the computer up as I stagger to the bathroom, drop the socks, etc, gargle some Corsodyl and stumble over to the kitchen to grind some coffee beans, switch the Gaggia coffee machine on, stagger back to bathroom, brush teeth, have a hot shower, back to the kitchen to make coffee.. and those two things are the nice little things in my morning -the hot shower, the first sip of home made espresso. Check livejournal, check FB, check my calendar, send a couple of birthday greetings, drink the rest of the coffee.. get ready to leave for lessons. If it is a Tuesday, I no longer have to get up at 5:20 am (that's the good bit) but have fewer pupils at WBGS and therefore less money coming in and have to negotiate the Northern Line right at peak hour for the first time since forever. I'll be on the Met Line to Watford slowly making its way out of London, replying to emails, writing little poemoids, looking out the window, trying to resist the temptation of writing to the woman I love because there is no point. The world outside slides quickly past, it seems to be full of things -it shouldn't feel so void and empty. Moor Park, Croxley; we're getting there. Somewhere. But it doesn't really feel like we're getting anywhere.