panic is not a nice thing.

 People will talk for ever and more when they realise that they are losing influence over the conversation, and then when conversations become technical the problems are only greater. This is what happened at the Saturday meeting, and it left a numb feeling, the knowledge that the explanation was factually wrong. The man is not to be corrected, he is a master of his trade.

On the way home find the good looking painter outside her studio, looking strict and sad. She tells the tail of woe that she had to finish with her boyfriend because he told her to shut up and go away one time to many. So she did. She shut up and went. But she is upset, for the man was crude. 

At home read the news, enjoy the open room with the verandah door wide open. It is a bright day. The news is full of King Charles the third, even though there is no surprise to be expected in this event. The chances of something going wrong are minimal.

And a long telephone conversation sets the plan for tomorrow.

It is a day of no great events, but with a few pleasant interludes. 

There will be no going out to the pub tonight, the experiences this morning at four  with the suddenly beating hard and the panic as the alcohol took its course. It was a bad memory and panic is not a nice thing.