A: No, it didn't.

Q: Did the earth move for you?

Apparently there was an earthquake in Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, that was felt across most of the country. Apparently it was a couple of minutes before 1am.

Apparently these things only happen when there is something around to mask them or otherwise divert my attention. I still haven't ever experienced even the very mild wobbles this country produces from time to time. And I have no particular wish to experience anything on the California or Japan level, thank you very much.

A: No, it didn't.

Q: Did the earth move for you?

Apparently there was an earthquake in Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, that was felt across most of the country. Apparently it was a couple of minutes before 1am.

Apparently these things only happen when there is something around to mask them or otherwise divert my attention. I still haven't ever experienced even the very mild wobbles this country produces from time to time. And I have no particular wish to experience anything on the California or Japan level, thank you very much.

Too tranquil by half

I am slowly coming to the conclusion that the air in this building has low levels of some suitably soporific agent passed through the air conditioning.

I went to bed early (by my standards) last night and slept well – I don’t recall my first alarm going off, though I was woken buy the second – and usual difficulty with opening my eyes for the first half hour or so not withstanding, I was relatively wide-eyed and bushy tailed. Certainly by the time I left The Athenaeum Club. As usual I dozed on the train into town as I can’t manage to read anything when everyone is packed in like sardine (I like me elbow room), decamped at Victoria and wandered into Sainsbury’s for provisions. It’s a nice, bright, spring-like day, cool and sunny. All rather splendid.

And now here I am, at the keyboard, feeling as though I haven’t slept for a year. It’s this place, it really is. I really wish I could open a window or something.

More coffee, I guess.

Too tranquil by half

I am slowly coming to the conclusion that the air in this building has low levels of some suitably soporific agent passed through the air conditioning.

I went to bed early (by my standards) last night and slept well – I don’t recall my first alarm going off, though I was woken buy the second – and usual difficulty with opening my eyes for the first half hour or so not withstanding, I was relatively wide-eyed and bushy tailed. Certainly by the time I left The Athenaeum Club. As usual I dozed on the train into town as I can’t manage to read anything when everyone is packed in like sardine (I like me elbow room), decamped at Victoria and wandered into Sainsbury’s for provisions. It’s a nice, bright, spring-like day, cool and sunny. All rather splendid.

And now here I am, at the keyboard, feeling as though I haven’t slept for a year. It’s this place, it really is. I really wish I could open a window or something.

More coffee, I guess.