Happiness is not a potato

It's the kind of night where I'm walking home at 9pm and the sun is still out - in fact, it's setting on distant horizon - and I'm just grateful to be here where I am. The streets are still buzzing with people, and I'm glad to be here in this dirty, grimy city where things just feel alive.

I've just been to a Guardian (as in the news company) Book Club event where Jeanette Winterson and Helen Macdonald were speaking about their books and about life, loss, identity and all the big questions in general. It's still amazing to me that, two days ago, I was in Mallorca, on the beach, indulging in all the physical sensations of sun and wind and sea. And tonight I was in Islington Town Hall indulging in being intellectually awoken after a day of feeling mostly intellectually dead (aka teaching at YHS). Yes, I'm exhausted, but damn if this isn't cool.

Also, I got a selfie with Jeanette Winterson.

So now, this year, I have seen/met my sporting hero (Gro Hammerseng), literary hero (Jeanette Winterson) and alltimehero4lyf (Lucy Lawless aka Xena).

I didn't really set out to meet Jeanette Winterson. This event just came up so I bought a ticket. Just like how a similar event with Sarah Waters is coming up next Monday and I decided to go to that. London life is random and kind of amazing like that.

So tonight I am happy. I hope you guys are happy too, out there wherever you are.