Permission to flop

Snuffling on my way down from Anton's house the night before. Woke up disoriented and feverish in the middle of the night, and read for an hour and a half. Gave myself the day off, sitting on the sofa reading Alan Garner's first two books The Wierdstone of Brisingamen, and then half of The Moon of Gomrath. These children's books are rooted in Norse, Celtic and Arthurian legends, which creates a world that overlaps somewhat with Tolkien's. It has been decades since I read them, and they are nicely crafted. Garner's reputation deserves to be much greater: there are moments of great flair and real rootedness in Cheshire. Will re-read Elidor again next, I remember this one far more clearly as it is set largely in Manchester. The juxtaposition of things like bus conductors, iron railings, TVs with a disturbing magic from the past is wonderful.

Normally a coldy bug corresponds with working in London, or having a surfeit of work, it was an absolute luxury to simply be ill for a change, and read and sleep for hours.

Six years since the tube and bus bombings in London. I remember that day very clearly, although I was in Brighton. There was also a controlled explosion outside Brighton station, and I was told to stay indoors by police in the Twitten, and MJ and her children were with me. I feel much happier now than I did then.

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