Home from home

I spent the morning working from home with meetings, but had to nip into the office at lunchtime to sort out a few things.  Well, I say nip but it's a pretty decent cycle there and it's hard work coming home when your home is at the top of a hill, the roads are cratered like the surface of the moon, and the cycle lanes are still full of piles of dead leaves; it's harder still when you have to carry your notebook and laptop and mouse and headphones and lunch and everything.  I just worked in the office all afternoon.

Yesterday's rain made all the snow go away, which was good, but the roads were awash with salty water which was bad, so I didn't want to take Fidra out, and so instead got exercise.  To think I used to do this five times a week (and was always tired).  My leg muscles are now feeding off all the meat pie and eggs and veg that I poured into myself once home again.

I've nearly finished my current book, on loan from Dad.  It's a little bit PhD thesis wordsmithery-meets-verbiage, but on the whole is pretty good: a potted history of, and a gently psychological take on, the rock lighthouses around Britain.