I finished up at the bank last week. That is to say, I'll still be working for
the bank, but I won't be working at
the bank, which makes a big difference. Just for a start, there won't be two levels of muzak (the broadcast version and the version squawking from the desk next door) and Ms Muzak clipping her nails, to think through. Whoever thought the open plan office was a good idea did not have tech writers on their mind at the time.
Today I've been checking Tender Morsels
page proofs, which was fun and funny, seeing some of the tangles the copyeditor and I had got ourselves into. D'oh! I meant to bring home the best marginal note to put here, but I brought a different swatch of pages home, for the read-through. Later, eh.
We had a weekend at the beach—a walking, eating, drinking kind of weekend, not a swimming kind. Oh, we walked. Oh, we sat in the sun. Oh, the fresh air knocked us around and we slept
, slept for so lo-o-ong. It was lovely. Thanks, Anne and Carson and Kate.
And the best bit about it was, there wasn't that crash
around 2pm Sunday when I realised, Monday tomorrow! Aak! No, the best bit was the stingrays at Washerwoman's Beach. No, the best bit was the drive down there—no, the drive back, in the low autumn sunlight. No, the best bit was that friendly little stubby dog on the beach. No, the best bit was the gum trees on the point between Flatrock and Dee beaches, that shoot up and then dither at the top. No, the best bit was the paella. No, the best bit...
I think you get the picture.
Tomorrow I'm heading up to Varuna with my ex-(sniff)-editor Rosalind, to talk to the Residential Editors up there about Rosalind's and my roller-coaster
of a professional relationship over the past...18 years. My God, it's been 18 years. Staying overnight in Katoomba, where there has been snow recently, and coming back Wednesday, when the fun and games continue.