Prosecco and gangrene

Lovely friend who pulled me from the SoD for prosecco and food in South Ken tells me I can apply for a new room here, nearer the edge. So I’m doing that. I’m packing the things I can’t let go of yet into boxes and leaving some of the self-flagellation equipment for the next unlucky incumbent.

Parts of me have to be left behind as well, though. I don’t get to choose which bits, but I know they have to be bits I valued – the bits I valued most. I have to use the knife of never letting go to cut them out. (Sorry Patrick, don’t sue me.) But better to cut them out than wait for gangrene to set in.

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