A very wise friend of mine religiously takes his birthday off, every year. On one particularly gruelling Thursday last week, when my hate for work was at extraordinary levels, I decided to introduce the same policy. So I took Monday the 4th off.
I sat in a backstreet cafe and ate scrambled eggs whilst reading the paper. I had a 'good' haircut (as opposed to the disaster cut of three weeks ago). I ate my favourite Japanese food (okonomiyaki) covered in mayonnaise and mystery brown sauce, with some of my favourite ex-Japan people. I drank my favourite beer (Asahi) and at the end of a great day, I enjoyed tea and a Selfridges carrot cupcake.
I sat in a backstreet cafe and ate scrambled eggs whilst reading the paper. I had a 'good' haircut (as opposed to the disaster cut of three weeks ago). I ate my favourite Japanese food (okonomiyaki) covered in mayonnaise and mystery brown sauce, with some of my favourite ex-Japan people. I drank my favourite beer (Asahi) and at the end of a great day, I enjoyed tea and a Selfridges carrot cupcake.
The following day I returned to work a much more pleasant person. And a year older. And with a pair of reading glasses. But I'm still too emotional to talk about that yet.
2 comments:
glasses? what the truck? when did you suddenly go blind?
Since office jobs wrecked both my eyes and my will to live...
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