What a strange day. Tonight the brilliance of the full moon offers a glorious sky layered in bright, white back-lit clouds. But perhaps it is the pull of the moon which has made people rather odd all day. First my delightful and adored periodontist, racing the clock and on the hop, who gave me two weeks to choose between two very depressing solutions to the root problem which has me miserably swallowing antibiotics. The devil or the deep blue sea? I may take the sea.
Then, in the office, more people breathless on the hop. A hopping day. A sense of rush - personal rush rather than the usual quiet urgency which is life against the daily deadline. Agitation. Lost copy. Disarray. And for some reason, people wanting to disclose things. Telling their stories, their worries. One, in fact, pouring his heart out about his secret lover who has taken another man just when he was ready to leave his wife and marry her.
I finished the working day by opening an art exhibition. Wonderful art. Lovely artist. Good people. It all went down rather well, considering I was a toothachey old thing who really wanted to be home and prone. One astonishes oneself when one rallies at the sight of a sea of expectant faces.
But now I have my wish. It is my Friday night at last. I am in my sanctuary and the moon is my friend.