there's a lot to say, but on reflection not as much as you would think. I've found a certain rhythm, an acceptable level where work and survival aren't mutually exclusive, Small pleasures, like a red bull and a fag while I read the papers before we open, or a porterhouse and chips and a glass of red after a busy service. New bits of joy like nips of cointreau with the missus after a hard days slog whilst overseeing the late staff like a slightly pissed but hopefully benevolent walrus.
I'l try to write more soon. To those who've wished me well or popped in for a pint and a feed, slainté.