Time travel.

I don't mind losing 8 hours because I got splendidly tipsy
and ended up shouting at invisible dogs in Leith.
Or having mad and secret times in a hotel room in a medium sized city.

But I really resent losing 8 hours because it's the time
difference between one place and another.
On top of traveling time, that's nearly a whole day, lost and out of whack.

The last thing I remember clearly was having dinner with R and L
at a restaurant called Ironside in San Francisco. I was really disappointed
it wasn't a themed place as wheelchairs would have been quite a novelty.
R is a very successful businessman, seriously, fuck knows how, he's been there 25 years and his Irish accent is still so strong other Irish people need him to be translated. I have never understood a word he says, and I understand Aberdonian.
And L has finally grown into her too tight face, last time I saw her
she looked like a terrified waxwork.

And then waking up this morning, with a mushy, blurred brain.

I have to be on my game tomorrow, a freelancer has been doing my job
for the last week, and apparently he is 'brilliant' (his words). We'll see.