Another morning, another deep sigh as I swiped through the headlines.
Latimer Road is not an area of town that I know well.
I’ve dipped in and out of W Ldn on various work assignments in a different life. But it’s not my part of town.
The landscape looks very familiar thought o what I see around me in Sunny Stockwell. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like if I was awoken to see one of the blocks around me burning down.
I was going to bash out a Brixton Buzz story early in the morning about plans for a new tower on the edges of Larkhall Park. It seemed a silly thing to do given the circumstances.
I had a light working day.
Dotty and Daisy disappeared into the garden to sleep.
I dipped in and out of the news. I reached a stage where seeing a burning tower block on repeat was in danger of sending me into a desensitised state.
Commentary on the England ICC match replaced the West London scenes.
I ended up working in complete silence.
The only positive experience for Wednesday was some fruit picking in the garden late in the day.
At least I’ve got my breakfast sorted for the morning.
Not a good day.
I’m heading back to the Fair City tomorrow to spend some time with the folks.