A dragonfly
So list making this morning, a low-key list with easily achievable things on it. Contacted mes amis in Paris, as I'd not heard from them. A strange tale of disappearing emails. However all okay now, and a new project on the horizon hopefully.
Spoke to Mum, texted Shaila who is over in the UK taking care of her uncle, and had been in touch. In the afternoon I spoke to Heather, Kim having returned to Canada. Not Heather's fault, but I need to think about anything else in the world other than matters to do with Janet estate right now. I am sick to the back teeth of the whole thing. Heather returning home this week, and not a good flyer. I wished her a safe journey.
During the day I went for a walk in Preston Park, it is a freakishly gorgeous day, and sat briefly by the pond, where I noticed the vast majority of the goldfish were black, presumably the gold ones being easier to spot by things predating on them and have over time resulted in a mostly black goldfish population. I sat down on a bench, and paused meditatively with my eyes closed. A dragonfly settled on my head, on the area of concern, with an unpleasant rasping noise which shocked me as it had zoomed in from behind. Boggled that my bald patch has become some kind of dragonfly helipad. Perhaps it is A Sign.
Otherwise by late afternoon I was feeling tired again, and binge watching the latest episodes of Bojak Horseman, which is a depressive masterpiece of animation. Lorraine had to work this evening, and I went out for a drink with Anton, meeting in the Great Eastern and going via a few pubs including The Basketmakers, finest of Brighton Pubs, where we were greeted friendlily by Joe the manager. Anton has a weird prejudice against the Basketmakers, although he found he quite liked it this time.
Anton gave me some presents for my birthday later in the week, for he will be in Vienna for work. He was also talking about playing cards lots, and how with a pack of cards you can play thousands of games. He is researching cards online and buys special packs from various places. In short, a craze. Anton is always happiest when in the grips of a craze.
Home to Lorraine, still up having watched people baking, and to bed.
Below, pampas grass, one of the entrances to the walled garden, and some of the black goldfish.
Spoke to Mum, texted Shaila who is over in the UK taking care of her uncle, and had been in touch. In the afternoon I spoke to Heather, Kim having returned to Canada. Not Heather's fault, but I need to think about anything else in the world other than matters to do with Janet estate right now. I am sick to the back teeth of the whole thing. Heather returning home this week, and not a good flyer. I wished her a safe journey.
During the day I went for a walk in Preston Park, it is a freakishly gorgeous day, and sat briefly by the pond, where I noticed the vast majority of the goldfish were black, presumably the gold ones being easier to spot by things predating on them and have over time resulted in a mostly black goldfish population. I sat down on a bench, and paused meditatively with my eyes closed. A dragonfly settled on my head, on the area of concern, with an unpleasant rasping noise which shocked me as it had zoomed in from behind. Boggled that my bald patch has become some kind of dragonfly helipad. Perhaps it is A Sign.
Otherwise by late afternoon I was feeling tired again, and binge watching the latest episodes of Bojak Horseman, which is a depressive masterpiece of animation. Lorraine had to work this evening, and I went out for a drink with Anton, meeting in the Great Eastern and going via a few pubs including The Basketmakers, finest of Brighton Pubs, where we were greeted friendlily by Joe the manager. Anton has a weird prejudice against the Basketmakers, although he found he quite liked it this time.
Anton gave me some presents for my birthday later in the week, for he will be in Vienna for work. He was also talking about playing cards lots, and how with a pack of cards you can play thousands of games. He is researching cards online and buys special packs from various places. In short, a craze. Anton is always happiest when in the grips of a craze.
Home to Lorraine, still up having watched people baking, and to bed.
Below, pampas grass, one of the entrances to the walled garden, and some of the black goldfish.
Comments