Saturday 6th March
Don't Get Around Much Anymore
1957
Nat King Cole
Saturday night at home with Patrick and a glass of white; spent the day in Lahndahn tahn with my Mum - Service at Canteen was shoddy again but food was good; it was as usual great to see my Mum. Spent much of the day ranting about things and feeling increasingly fed up and sad as the day wore on - too many people at the Courtauld Gallery, being ignored by waiters, prevented from having tea and cake by misinformed National Gallery Café staff.
Working hard for little reward, being ashamed of my living environs, the stupidity and wilful ignorance of the rest of the planet and men being permanently juvenile just added to the joy-fest.
I'm all happy and smiley at work, but that's not the case when i'm out of the classroom; I feel tired all the goddamned time too. When we were at the Royal Festival Hall today I had to fight to stop myself crying at the rather great school band that was playing in the ballroom; a Sixth Former sang Don't Get Around Much Anymore, which was waaay too close to the bone for my brain. FOR FUCKS SAKE.
Anyway, i'm home with the one "man" that will commit to me, Patrick, the non-ambulatory, non-breathing soft toy, and i'm listening to the silken butter that is Nat King Cole's voice and am feeling very small and sad. The world is sl-o-o-w-ly crushing me it seems at the moment. Fun times all round!
