Here, away, and the bit in between

Back in my pseudo-anchorite cell in darkest Surrey, after a none-too-onerous journey up from home. Small consolation for having to be here at all, but at least I arrived on time.
There were a couple of oddities on the train - I gratuitously missed a good opportunity to write, having a fairly literate seeming 'stream of consciousness' going on in my head, which I totally failed to extract from my mind, despite having my laptop in the luggage rack just above me, and even a notebook and pencil in my main luggage, although to have unearthed those would have meant some fairly unseemly rooting amongst my clean socks and underwear. A waste, undoubtedly, even though I don't really consider myself anything close to a 'proper' writer.
A goodly part of the stuff in my head was inspired by my reading matter, as I threw caution to the wind and began re-reading Loving Sander for the third (I think) time. Reckless, given the subject matter and the effect it tends to have on me - and did. We're not talking Nifty here - it's a bona fide novel, and a love story, at that - but there were one or two passages which found their way beneath my armour, one in particular which I didn't remember as being quite so mind-manglingly erotic, especially given the veiled, almost coy language used. I glanced up to see a severe, schoolmarm-ish, 60-something lady looking my way, as though I'd drawn her disapproval by somehow broadcasting my thoughts around the carriage. Not, on reflection, the best book for me to be reading on a moderately busy train.
Mixed news for my wife today, and, indirectly, I suppose, for all of us. On the credit side, it's looking almost a done deal that my wife is going to be transferred to the new holders of the contract for her project, and, something which seemed particularly unlikely only a couple of weeks ago, still in a management position. Immediate financial meltdown, it seems, has been averted. Much less welcome, though, was more bad news about my mother-in-law's health. She's not well at all, and has had a fall, too, and is being re-admitted to the hospice she was in a few months ago for another period of respite care. One day, sooner rather than later, I fear, a phone call with worse news is going to arrive. It could be a rough summer.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B