This morning, it wasn't easy to get out of bed. I had a really fractured day at work, and didn't get going until about 3pm. As soon as I arrived, I was asked questions that I needed to log in to my computer to answer, and I felt as if I didn't catch up all morning. When I went downstairs to see one of the data analysts in the half hour before lunch, she ended up taking a long phone call whilst I waited. When I asked Steve, the proud father who brought his beautiful one-year-old son in to work on Friday, how the baby's first birthday party went, I was still nodding and smiling twenty minutes later. And feeling my workload slip further and further from my grasp... as I grinned on. Lunch couldn't have come too soon.
Tracy has found a new bloke, called Andy, who she seems very into. She's lost a stone, she says. She looked well. We went to the Soup Kitchen and had a goats' cheese tart with a bean-heavy salad, yum! It was brilliant to see her, I'm glad she's working in town again.
On the off-chance, Dunk invited me to see a band playing in the HMV basement, Attack! Attack! (here's their myspace) - and to my weariness was added the feeling of being massively old. Apart from parents, of which there were a few there, and bouncers, of which there were far too many there, I was the oldest person in the room. In my tie, in my work pants, I felt like I was a pervert, sneaking into a kids party. The band were good, but not really my thing.
Kate counted about thirty people there (including parents, but not including staff). It really was as sparsely filled as the picture suggests. But the band played on as if it was Wembley, bless 'em. In one wonderful moment, they invited anybody in the audience that felt like it to join them on stage. Two eager fourteen-year-old girls scurried round, and bopped about on the stage with the band. They'll never forget today, I thought. Not even when they're as old as me.
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