Closing time

To work via (what's become) the usual route. I get off the Underground at Shepherd's Bush and order coffee from the Cafe Nero. A walk to White City follows. This should be good enough to get my exercise monitor to say I've done enough, but I forgot to track it this morning and didn't notice until it was too late.

After work, I was due to go for a drink with F. When I reminded him via WhatsApp mid-afternoon, I also offered next week, and he came back saying a postponement would be preferable.

Instead, I went for drinks with colleagues that extended to fill the whole evening. I don't mind, especially as Mark B has been in town for a few weeks, and having more than one evening with him is always nice.

It was relatively quiet in the bar compared to some Thursdays, but we stayed until they closed and they'd stacked the chairs on the tables. I took the tube down to Wimbledon but watched my last train leave the platform as I arrived. That meant I ended up on a bus. While waiting at the stop, I spoke to PY, who headed for The Island earlier tonight. We're meeting his sister tomorrow, and he's taken the day off to show them the flat. I will head down after work.

Over drinks, one of my colleagues spoke about waking up hungry in the middle of the night one day this week. From memory, he said he ordered pasta to be delivered at 3am. This story played on my mind when I got home at half past midnight because I had a craving for a kebab, and my local shop was closed. I know I should have gone to bed, but just after 1am, a kebab delivery arrived (they silently left it on the doorstep, and I was notified in the app).

I sit here eating a kebab when I know I should be asleep.