A quiet evening in tonight, and the first for many weeks. It is not something I had particularly missed because the last 12 weeks had been very enjoyable ones whether in the physical company of someone else or with them in one's mind, pleasant and present and really rather nice.
But tonight was one on my own and I am two thirds through it now.
My current job enables me to finish early if I start early, though recent jobs have meant if I started early, I just finished when things were done and then drove an hour or more home; sometimes I miss that, sometimes I do not. Tonight was the former, and it is a thing to miss being engaged at one's work.
I was in at 5 - a curious thing to be in before the teatime headlines.
I have cooked well and watched the news at length (I seem to be a middle class 'dangerous' drinker, ticking every box except 'affluent'. The start of the evening felt a little lonely if I am honest but right now if feels indulgent and pleasant and I am looking forward to an hour's idle, escapist TV (Spooks), another glass of (dangerous) wine, and then a few pages of an anonymous book in bed.
An evening with the author - and such delights and simple pleasures as I have missed very much of late. This recent change to a delightful run of 12 weeks' company isn't quite so empty as it felt driving home a little after 4.