Shadowed
Appalling dreams full of violence, except I was the one doing all the atrocious stuff. Woke up shaken and feeling slightly disturbed for several hours into waking. Lots of archetypal stuff going on, battling with my shadow. Appalled by the unspeakable violence latent in my dreams.
Off to London again. This morning the train trailing through a foggy landscape, and I listened again to the biography of Dickens which I am greatly enjoying. He appears to have been obnoxious to his wife when be decided to leave her, and guilty of incredible hypocrisy with his pathos laden depictions of children, while he coldly farmed his sons off to a second rate school in France only seeing them in the summer.
Had expected only to work half a day today, but in fact worked a full day, slinking out for a gossip with First Matie as we bought sandwiches for lunch. This spell in Tavistock Square excellent for catching up with folks, not to mention the boon to the Kenny coffers,
Only five minutes delay on the trains today, the Downs shrouded in rainclouds as we approached Brighton. Home to my lovely Lorraine for supper, and then out to see Glen "Fingers" Capra and Steve Cartwright in the Evening Star. Steve sitting with Lorraine Bowen when I arrived, who despite having met and talked to me half a dozen times, and her being at 'This Concert Will Fall In Love With You', had no idea who I was.
Interesting evening. Steve's band the Sumerian Kyngs have started playing a piece called Horses based on lyrics I gave Steve some time ago. Long discussions with him about shooting deer, and with Glen who told us about his mother who died when she was 40 of a brain tumour, and he was the age of his twin daughters, who began university last year. A lot of rain has fallen in Glen's life.
Fingers and I popped into Sing Li, the fish and chip shop at the bottom of the Twitten. The stern faced owner was wreathed in smiles to see me, which was sweet. Home to Lorraine in the still-teeming rain.
Off to London again. This morning the train trailing through a foggy landscape, and I listened again to the biography of Dickens which I am greatly enjoying. He appears to have been obnoxious to his wife when be decided to leave her, and guilty of incredible hypocrisy with his pathos laden depictions of children, while he coldly farmed his sons off to a second rate school in France only seeing them in the summer.
Had expected only to work half a day today, but in fact worked a full day, slinking out for a gossip with First Matie as we bought sandwiches for lunch. This spell in Tavistock Square excellent for catching up with folks, not to mention the boon to the Kenny coffers,
Only five minutes delay on the trains today, the Downs shrouded in rainclouds as we approached Brighton. Home to my lovely Lorraine for supper, and then out to see Glen "Fingers" Capra and Steve Cartwright in the Evening Star. Steve sitting with Lorraine Bowen when I arrived, who despite having met and talked to me half a dozen times, and her being at 'This Concert Will Fall In Love With You', had no idea who I was.
Interesting evening. Steve's band the Sumerian Kyngs have started playing a piece called Horses based on lyrics I gave Steve some time ago. Long discussions with him about shooting deer, and with Glen who told us about his mother who died when she was 40 of a brain tumour, and he was the age of his twin daughters, who began university last year. A lot of rain has fallen in Glen's life.
Fingers and I popped into Sing Li, the fish and chip shop at the bottom of the Twitten. The stern faced owner was wreathed in smiles to see me, which was sweet. Home to Lorraine in the still-teeming rain.
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