A World of Her Own

Anne-Marie has returned to her own little world after a short venture outside. It is safer in her world. And people talk in amusing voices.

She really rather likes her own little world, as it is quiet and peaceful. Esp. if one is sitting on the wrong train all by one's self on the platform across from where one's correct train is pulling out. Sometimes one doesn't realise this until the annoucement comes over the speaker detailing the train after one is supposed to be gone and one slightly freaks out in a panic. But if one is a Southern Lady, the train manager just might be nice due to one's accent (and obvious American-ness -- *bless*) and let one go on this train. This is lovely until this train is late and one nearly has an aneurysm in London worrying about making one's connection. Fortunately, one does make it across London with a whole 4 -- yes, count 'em -- four minutes to spare!

After a few days out and about, though, one really needs to internalise again and go where life cannot irritate.

I had a haircut appointment scheduled for 6.00pm today (am trying to masquerade as adult who cares about regular grooming issues) and have reminded self every day this week by looking at useful and omnipresent Calendrical Item (some people might find this an amazingly fantabulous addition to their daily wardrobe...). Somehow, though, today the voices and the calendar failed in their duty to remind me about said appointment.

It was only when literally 1/2 block from St. Miles church, and I shrewishly noticed someone's unfortunate roots, that the brain kicked in (previously, it had been occupied with planning for lovely food to quell violently rumbly tumbly and the later excursion to knitting and the need to call the printer in Shreveport and to call my Auntie Karen and to call Dr. Morgan). This shadow-form of a memory led to my consulting clock on phone, which read 17.58 (for those uninitiated into the wonders of 24-hour time telling, this means I had two minutes to get to Ritual Day Spa). Quite handily, it is only about 2 1/2 minute walk from my house, so I did indeed make it as the Town Hall clock was striking 6 -- whew.

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There are now people across the square doing the Nelson Laugh (ha ha!) from The Simpson's. This is slightly amusing.

But I still think I need to go back into my own little world...

Goodbyeeeee, Trolley People!