Bill Murray you old scoundrel

Home sick. Again. Dont even want to think about why that is. Except that is quite telling that even if im out feeling shit I still need to work. There isnt really a break to be had from this company. At least not the politics surrounding it.

Woke up yesterday feeling properly under the weather so lit some candles and fled from the bed where my snoring man kept me awake.

Sexy face. Bathing in my own sweat what better than living in a bath robe.

After a day of in and out sleep i had to get myself in order since I had gotten tickets for George and me to see Bill Murray and Jan Vogler at Royal Festival Hall and I couldnt miss that.

Pumped myself up with pills and a headband being somewhat ready for the big world.

A very excited George in hos Zissou benie.

Bill Murray is another of George idols. I feel like my mission in life is to make sure he gets to see the people that inspires him.

Last minute tickets means all the way up in the nosebleed section.

Doesnt matter when its all so magical. It was truly amazing. I meeting of music and literature as well as Murrays whimsical comedic timing.

I loved the passages when he read from great american writers mixed with Voglers sublime (yes, im using that word) music.

If you want to read a review from someone who says it better than i ever will.

Then we walked home by Embankment looking at an enchanting London.

Coming home George adorned our fridge with his gift to me. Yep, made in Sweden for export. To London.

Then ready for bed again. I slept like the dead until i had to retire to the sofa again. Most of the time i have no issues with George snoring but when im sick it kills me. So slept on our very comfy sofa instead.

Todays challenge is not making work want to kill myself.

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