This entire year, I have not watched a single F1 race, the last of which is about to finish in a moment; this is in many ways quite remarkable. I have tumbled, caught myself, found love, been caught, and more. But mostly, I have been carting books and papers around all year, in boxes, files, piles, stacks, and this week will be just the same. But it is the last week. For every morning that began at 4am, every afternoon that slipped by in a blur of files and papers, for every frustrating evening spent flying to and fro and fighting the darkness, I sound the Last Post. There is no going back. It is done.
Comment (1)
Cheers to that, mate!