Small puzzlements that would doubtless not even be noticed on a normal day, but with lack of sleep creates a whole Twilight Zone ambience

It’s been a strange day. To be honest, any Monday off work is usually pretty strange with that extended-weekend feeling; particularly so when you haven’t really slept enough all weekend due to blond biere-related activities and were dumb enough to stay up to watch the repeat of Studio 60 even though it’s still just about the most annoying programme on TV. So I wasn’t really prepared for the woman knocking on my door this morning asking if I wanted to know more about the Bible, but at least that woke me up enough to get the cat off the bed and onto the nice, cleanable, floorboards when he was about to be sick (what is it with El Mog, being left for a few days, and various feline bodyfluids?). The six-week early "on spec" visit by the council’s loft insulation man made me wonder if there’s always loads of people dropping by and I’m just not in to meet them…

This afternoon I did a geeky London thing and went on the East London line, the one remaining tube line I’ve never been on, and with just three weeks to go until it’s closed, redeveloped, and renamed, it had to be done. Couldn’t really see much of Brunel’s tunnel and got a sharp reminder of tube hatred by getting stuck outside Moorgate ("sorry for these delays and why I can’t tell you what they are… We’ve got a new radio system and it means information isn’t getting through very quickly any more… Ah, there’s a signal failure"), compounded by more strangeness within the carriage – I’d swear some middle-aged guy took a photo of me on his phone. Ugh *shudder*


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