Pass the pitchfork This morning painting out some gold and red graffiti tags which had appeared in the Twitten on Saturday night. Chatting with Joy and Wan as I did so. Took a briefing at noon for a branding campaign for a Vodka I'd never heard of. Worked on this during the afternoon, being troubled by a croaking like that of a giant toad, which has been a bizarre feature of my neighbourhood for the last few weeks. It has put me in mind of various Victorian horror stories by someone like MR James, and I am pleased Lorraine has also heard it and that it is not some manifestation of a troubled mind. Actually it could be my subconscious objectifying the notion of work, a la Philip Larkin. Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the brute off? After I finished my toadery this evening, I listened to A Passage to India , which I have now almost finished. I was about to take myself out for a walk, when Matt called as I left and we had a...
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