Richard Wright

It’s been a grey day today in Glasgow, but a productive one.  I’ve cleared out sheds and cupboards, making three trips to the city dump and back, leaving very little house emptying left to do before Sunday.  That’s when the packing starts in earnest, three days of it.  Might not be as bad as I imagine.  I could be that lucky.

Not long until we bid a final farewell to the house above (and the Grimmobile).  I wrote two (as yet unpublished) novels here, Hiram Grange’s forthcoming novella outing, Doctor Who stories, and much more.  Happy to be moving on, although time proceeds in sprints and dead stops, seemingly at random.

Last week, ironically, we had a bit of an Indian summer, at least in splashes, which was perfect for the wedding.  We keep thinking back on the day, and the lead up to it, with happy smiles.  It was fabulous.  I think the guests enjoyed it too, for the most part.  These days, the sign of a good party / wedding seems to be how many people befriend one another on social networking sites afterwards, and we’ve witnessed a flurry of friends and family doing so.

We are, it has to be said, a little fuzzy about when the wedding actually finished.  We were up until the last guests left, we think.  Initially, we thought that might have been around about half past midnight, and then two guests who live locally mentioned they got home around about half past one.  We revised upwards.  Today, another friend, also very local, mentioned that she got home about half past two.  We have again revised upwards.  We definitely went to bed at some point, because that’s where we woke up.  Curious.