I’m back at The Water Tower again this morning. Today the sky is a sort of late-summer colour: a faded blue like an old shirt or a sunkissed watercolour. Altocumulus too, hangs like a carpet of cotton wool. It reminds me of arriving in Sorrento on a quiet September afternoon and realising that the Italian summer was coming to an end, just as my holiday was starting.
It’s an odd feeling isn’t it, coming in at the end of something momentous. It’s like arriving at the embers of a party - everyone’s bonded, everyone’s had the best time, everyone’s in love with everyone else, and all you can see is a mess at the end of someone else’s good time.
Wait. Why am I talking about that? This isn’t Italy, and I’m on my way to work!
Well, sort of - today I’m working from home; or more accurately, working from somebody else’s home. It was convenient to be at the Intrepids’ today, and so that’s where I’m headed. I’m late though.
And summer is too. You can tell from the angles of the shadows, from the way the sun catches the leaves, and from the humid air. There’s a golden paintbrush about at this time of year.
Anyway. Here comes the bus. At least I don’t have to actually arrive late at the actual office I suppose. It’s one thing being late to a party, but it’s quite another to saunter into the world of work when everyone else has already been there an hour.
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