incandescens | there and back again

The interview went quite well, I think, but I probably won't be told yes or no till the end of next week. (I deduce from this that they have a fair amount of other people to see, so . . .) I made them laugh, at least, which should help them remember me.

While in Birmingham I found a Chinese supermarket, and picked up some things such as oyster sauce and chili oil to experiment with those Wagamama recipes in my new book. Can't think why my usual shoulder-bag seems to be developing rips (as, indeed, they all do) -- it's not as if I tend to overload it that much.

(And yes, I did sleep most of the way there on the train. Anxiety is one thing, but early morning tiredness trumps it. Read on the way back, and completed Antilaws mission on Gameboy, with far greater ease than the first time. There's definitely something to be said for playing a game with some idea of what you're supposed to do.)

Did some scribbling in celebration when I got home. A relief to the mind.

In to work tomorrow. This week has been totally disrupted. Tch. And Monday of next week is a public holiday, which I shall take great pleasure in sleeping in on.

---

Lot's Wife

And the just man trailed God's messenger
His huge, light shape devoured the black hill.
But uneasiness shadowed his wife and spoke to her:
"It's not too late, you can look back still

At the red towers of Sodom, the place that bore you,
The square in which you sang, the spinning-shed,
At the empty windows of that upper storey
Where children blessed your happy marriage-bed.'

Her eyes that were still turning when a bolt
Of pain shot through them, were instantly blind;
Her body turned into transparent salt,
And her swift legs were rooted to the ground.

Who mourns one woman in a holocaust?
Surely her death has no significance?
Yet in my heart she will never be lost
She who gave up her life to steal one glance.

-- Anna Akhmatova, trans D.M. Thomas