Late April, still in my winter coat. I feel like a child who’s sulking because she can’t have what she wants; all I want is for this winter to fuck right off. London was a sour 8°C today, I was sitting in a café in Shoreditch watching the rain splash down outside and thinking how miserable it all was. Then I realised, anywhere else would be just as rubbish in this kind of weather, but at least I get to be rained on in London. This helped, for a moment. Then I checked the state of springtime in San Francisco: it is 19°C there today and I can’t even remember what that feels like right now. Then I started to think how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper break from work, as in more than a week, and realised it was over a year ago. It was just as I quit my office job and dossed about for what I know to be two months, but have no real memory of. In any case it was transformational. I’m starting to think there is a reason the Scandies are mandated to take parts of their holiday allowance as a two-week chunk, because that’s how long it takes to properly rest as well as recuperate. All work and no play will make you a little nuts. Today my winter coat is making a fool out of me, but I am California dreaming.