I’ve been semi-berating myself for spending (nearly) the whole weekend in a bubble. The last few weeks, I’ve just been ‘out there’ too much. It’s been at least one thing – if not two – every night (including most weekend nights) … and, however great the individual events are, eventually I need to recharge.
So: probably to Tony’s chagrin (since he barely gets to see me in the week), I lay down on the sofa on Saturday morning, picked up an ancient book (Shogun … one I’ve read before a thousand times, and is therefore completely undemanding), and refused to budge. Or even grunt. Except to have a massage this morning, and then a hot bath, both of which were bloody fantastic. I’m a man reborn. Such a luxury to be able to be so completely self-indulgent for a weekend … <happy sigh> …
Anyway: this was all about bubbles. As I say: I was semi-berating myself for shutting myself up in my own bubble for the weekend; but just going into the bedroom to turn the covers down and shut the blinds, and I was struck by the hundreds of bubbles I could see all around me. Maybe I’m not such a bad person after all …
