The end of another busy but productive and stimulating work week. I thrive on weeks like this one, when I am called to juggle a million and one different things at once and things still get done and get done well. Slowing or paring down is not an option in my job. I've found that the key to getting it all done at the same time is to focus on just one thing at a time even if it's only for one minute. Even a minute of my time is worth devoting my attention fully to something, if that makes sense.
Stress is unavoidable of course and sometimes you simply have to let off steam. But I've found that most times the public expression of stress at work aggravates and escalates problems rather than solves them. I try my best to keep stress from affecting my behaviour with my colleagues. I don't always succeed in hiding it but when I do it's almost always worth it. Everyone becomes a little calmer, heads clear and solutions to things surface more readily as a result I think.
Anyway, my Friday began with breakfast with my husband in the Garden Cafe in the middle of Russell Square, chatting about each other's work, watching people cross the Square to the university or their offices, sharing a bland croissant and sipping weak coffees. Then we went our separate ways, not quite sure whether we'd see each other again before bedtime or even before Saturday morning.
After work, I browsed the womenswear in Liberty and the books in Waterstone's in Piccadilly, dined on stir-fried beef with chillies and black bean sauce plus egg fried rice in HK Diner in Chinatown, then strolled through a heaving Soho to pick up la tarte aux framboises from Paul on Old Compton Street to take home with me.
At home, sprawled out on the sofa, I savoured the tarte and a novel and periodic phone conversations with M as he worked through the night in his office in the City.
Goodnight M, I love you!