Tuesday, June 15, 2004
I decided to take a different walk into work today, detouring down relatively quiet side streets, away from the hated hordes belching out from Holborn tube. Contact with that pinstriped, corporate, Metro-wielding lot on any day is bad enough; in this weather I really can't be held responsible for my actions.
So, unusually for a work-day morning, I was able to switch off totally, aware only of the warmth of the sun, the birdsong in the trees, and the occasional smell of freshly-brewed coffee or sizzling bacon from generations-old family-run caffs.
But when, twenty minutes later, I woke up from my Zen-like trance, and discovered the automatic pilot in my head had led me, not to my offices, but right up to the (sadly locked) door of one of my favourite bars, I realised it's safe to say that at the moment my mind is very definitely not on my job…