Station to Station

A tap on the door at eight and I had forgotten that Cass had come around again to build a few wee shelves in my office, so had to work downstairs. Cass whistling Life on Mars by David Bowie. However off to Chiswick a bit later, quite enjoying a bit of a commute. Managed to pop into Waterstones and using the present of a Waterstones card I'd been given, I bought poetry books by Claudia Rankine, Sarah Howe and Don Patterson.

Then into a room to work with Dave the art director on a welcome pack.

On the train home I read Don Paterson's 40 Sonnets. Not much time to do anything other than work, or exist under the shadow of work. Interesting things like poems and books and all the other stuff I want to think about seem incredibly vivid and out of reach edge.

Beth had cooked a healthy supper as I was late and Lorraine was doing her Pilates.  My new shelves are great. Enjoyed rearranging my study before bed, listening to Station to Station, one of the Bowie albums I liked most as a teenager. Not listened to it properly in decades. Although recorded in LA, I had thought it was all coke-fueled middle European angst and rootlessnes, but I read on the internet that it may have been something to do with stations of the cross too. Word on a Wing is effectively a prayer.

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