The Gnome, imps, and Clangers, Back to London this morning, rewriting the last four lines of my magisterial Moth Display poem on the train. I rewrote about 20 versions of the closing lines but yet there is not one that is right yet. Waves of weirdness abating slightly about being in the agency again, and I enjoyed myself, and very nice to chat to people. Though the suggestion that they have another whip round for me as I left today fell on deaf ears. It felt very comfortable to have worked with the Gnome for a couple of days; like putting on an old and extremely comfortable cardigan. We went for a fast beer at lunchtime at the dubious OSP pub, and he then left to go to Denmark Street buy guitar accessory Christmas presents for his musical family. I repaired back to the agency to write about ailments of one sort or another, and chatted intermittently to another freelancer called Diane who was sat opposite me. She was very nice, and it turns out she and her husband live in Brighton, very...
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