jiggety jog

I have been welcomed home by the wonderful smell of hyacinths, which I'd forgotten about till I opened the back door and was wrapped in their heady scent.

Happy New Year to me in my house. Scattered reminders of the rush I was in when I left to catch the train to London, the children's toys mostly but not all put away, a cushion upturned above Alex' beloved diecast figure of Sir Topham Hat next to a yellow plastic digger.

My mind is ~calm but full~

Leaving Mark was strange, we ended up in a surreal situation where he had his coat and hat on to go home (to check wtf I'd done to his cooker) and get back for the late game of poker, and I couldn't go with him because I needed to get to Victoria for the last train home, but was involved in conversation with Neil & Jai so I plain didn't realise he was already hot to trot (and I do think he is hot *grin*). J said she thought he thought I would be there when he got back, which ~ he can't have done, can he? Confused now.

I'd decided to take the bus to Marylebone, and was checking which stop I needed (yes, I went to the wrong one first) when this chap decided to offer assistance, which was kinda OK even if I didn't need it. I allowed him to spell out what I'd already seen (that the stop I was at was for the wrong direction), accepted his offer to escort me to the right stop, mostly on the basis that there wasn't a valid reason to refuse and he seemed sane and normal, though short! and then had to fend off his earnest entreaties that we should meet for coffee this weekend. I thought he was going to get on the bloody bus with me but he declared in the end that he was going to walk home, after having said he was going to get the tube, so why was he at the bus stop across the road? Not quite sure if it's the Prada perfume I've been wearing lately or some change in pheremones but I'm getting hit on far more than usual or maybe I'm just noticing it more. I can see myself watching out for him so I can dodge across the road to avoid any further contact.

It's ONLY half-past one, how on earth am I meant to sleep when I've got myself nicely re-conditioned to being awake till 4am? And I miss Mark already! I want to tell him about seeing the snow lying 3 inches thick on the platforms at Great Missenden and in the fields by the railway line, about the hyacinths, that the book he recommended is a total page-turner, that my brother is probably going to come fit me a new kitchen this month (budget isn't too awful if I get past thinking poor); that I wanted to leave with him from the pub, that I really liked the acceptance I get from his poker school, to explain how completely cherished I feel with all the gifts he has given me 'for Christmas', so many thoughts tumbling in my head and, unfortunately, an unease that he's cross because I didn't leave with him, wasn't there when he got back, took liberties with his cooker by removing the accumulated layer of detritus and managing to set the ignition thing clicking unstoppably.

What an idiot I am, always so ready to run away and write everything off at the first glimmer of my own unconfidence. Sarah made a point of coming over to talk to me at the LAM and our conversation had neither edge nor allusion to the great email debacle from December. I'm very glad about that, I hate to be on bad terms with anyone.

Almost 3am, time for big red or bed at any rate: drinking a nice glass of drowned feathers, no coke, so I should be able to sleep; will be strange not to have a warm body in the bed with me. Can't find the card reader to get the NYE pics off my camera, but have found the phone lead to get the Mephistopheles shot from Boisdale off the phone. All will be well, and all will be well and all manner of things will be well *HAPPY*