Oh God.
My head is full of numbers and anxiety and excitement nerves and the last vestiges of a wine-soaked Sunday.
Such is London, and days that she gives me, full of opportunity and cute boys with accents. Roast beef dinners and smoked salmon starters, with glasses lent cheerfully for a day full of laughter. Morocco fused with Italy - sheeshas and pizza, and just because we're happy, accept a gift of a bottle. Gay bars and gay clubs and gay boys aplenty... God, are there any straight people in London? By golly, there are, and they're all at my feet, because London makes the best part of my Gemini come out. I hate saying good-bye... especially to her.
Two days. I leave the day after tomorrow, and I've yet to spend as much time as I want to with the darlings in my life - both old, and newly found. Because London always, always, always adds new people to my mix. I'm becoming very good at saying good-bye, poppets.
So much opportunity; so much to worry about. I'm awfully frightened, but I'm also perplexed that the worry comes built in with a strong sense that everything, at the end of the day, will be just smashing.
Also? I spent more money than I should have, something one should do on a working trip. It really is the only way to lubricate the sadness of goodbye. So, you know... I'll be all right in the end.
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