under another sun

Feeling ill. Hot, with a dry rasping cough and wanting to sleep all the time. So rubbish did I feel that I didn't even have the energy to set up my new computer. Instead I spent most of the day nested on the gold sofa, reading books, watching snatches of stuff on my computer and being looked after by Lorraine, who had to do some work in the afternoon.  Watched a half an hour interview from 1975 with John Lennon by whispering Bob Harris. Lennon was an interesting man, an odd mix of prickly and humble and funny. Reading a book of essays by David Foster Wallace, called A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again -- enjoying his essay about David Lynch, which is making me want to watch Lynch again. Before I spent lots of time on the sofa, I spent a good deal of time in bed. This was my view for much of the morning.

Oddly fragile and demotivated this morning. I blame Anton. I made myself a cup of tea and poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen this morning. As they were side by side, I added milk to the water, which I took as a bad sign. I'm not sure of what it was, exactly. I worked a little on the play, and was phoned by the agency to give a short amount of time to considering an client idea that even the dogs in the street could see was a wrong 'un. Meanwhile various friends have been doing highly interesting things. Richard Gibson is out in Kavala with Glen and Eleni in yet another manifestation of the Shakespeare Heptet. I saw this link to a local TV appearance . I love the bit where Richard starts talking and overdubbed Greek emerges.  Meanwhile Jane's been at her Royal impersonations again as you can see here . I read an excellent essay by David Foster Wallace here , a humorous account of a seven day Caribbean cruise, which I heard being discussed on R4's A Good...