The week

A week of red cups, paracetomol and sleeping away from home for days.

What calms me is what feeds me, news of progress and hope far away so close and small things; typing, riding the bus, being with friends but also being alone.

So to the weekend and shopping, my head swimming with scents and last nights wine, rain endlessly falling, somehow London is trying to wash the week off me so I'm ready for more.

I'm like a child and find repetition so comforting, to Mr kiss kiss bang bang again, is it wrong that to me everything in the world is right when I'm watching a James Bond film?

Heading home lapels, blouses and the ground are awash with paper poppies while late bonfire night fireworks ring out- but tomorrow all will be silent and still as we remember.