under another sun

A kind of closure Appalling dreams all night: one in which everything was blurry so that nothing in the dream could be clearly seen. Never had that one before, and frankly I don't want it again. I am very stressed at the moment, and my dreams are reflecting this. The obvious reading of the dream is there are situations in my life that I cannot properly see yet. Things settled down over a breakfast of tea and buttered crumpets with Mum and Mase. Mase suggested I should write a list, and I began to create an elaborate anxiety mindmap (complete with drawings) on the tube, which I was rather enjoying. But when I reached Baker Street the police called me to confirm that the guy who'd knocked suspiciously on my door a few weeks ago was also my burglar. This made me feel better right away. The thief was a Polish guy called Christian, as he told me at the time. He was collared 40 minutes later breaking in somewhere else. The DNA matches the gore in my house, and he is pleading guilty o...

On computers, burglars and First Matie A new computer today. A shiny silver and white Dell Inspiron. I had to wait in most of the day for it be delivered. I was hoping for a first thing delivery so I could get to work, but it wasn't to be. This, however, turned out very well for me. In the morning the police called to say that there was no DNA match for my burglar. I thought no more of this till there was a knock on the door just before 1.00pm. I opened up thinking it was the computer delivery guy but instead there was a tall guy of about 25 with a broad face and a bright orange jacket, who asked me in a heavy east European accent if I had any work. Not the sort of question you ask in a random residential area. A few seconds after I had said no, and closed the door, I smelled a rat. I walked out into the Twitten only to see that he had legged it -- without knocking on anyone else's door. I felt sure this was the man who burgled me. He was tall, as was the burglar, looked a bit ...

Monday: a bloody nightmare Dismally wondering, during a tiresome day, if the sore throat I have had for two months now is some kind of record. Returned late from work to discover I had been burgled. The burglar gained access by climbing into my garden over the wall and then smashing a window by my table. This caused him to bleed a lot. Blood was thoughtfully wiped over my gold sofa, my bedding, clothes, walls, in my fridge and so on. Things stolen were few, but the worst was my laptop, containing my writing and photos from the last year and a half, much of it stupidly not backed up. The place was in complete turmoil and everything had been pulled out from wardrobes, cupboards etc. So, I was pleased I devoted so much of my hermit-like weekend to tidying up then. Things improved somewhat when Sandra, an nice forensics lady came and dipped swabs into blood, and took shoeprints and fingerprints. (Apparently there is an excellent chance of arresting the offender.) And she made me laugh tal...