under another sun

Woke up in the night feeling oddly doomy and discombobulated. I'd dreamt I was standing in Tanfield Avenue, in Neasden, where we lived for a few years on returning from Guernsey. In the dream I was an adult, and waiting in the living room. It was strangely empty however. Into it arrived two men, my biological father, and grandfather. One of them explained they had been delayed due to one of them having to look after a film star. They were both appeared to be the same age, around 40. I stumblingly introduced myself, and shook both of their hands, and they both introduced themselves as John (which was both their names in reality too). I said, where the hell have you guys been? As far as I can remember, I never dreamt about either of them before.   Got up early, did some writing, and then put all the garden furniture away as we are expecting 50mph winds tonight. Then spent a good deal of time looking at fireplaces. Also contacting a chimney sweep to do Mum's flue. I realise howeve...

Lorraine hopped off to the Library to deliver Rhyme Time. I hopped onto a bus to Tide Mills and walked along the off road cycle path for half an hour to Mamoosh, where I met Stephen Bone for a coffee. He looked well, though has his hands full as a full time carer. Chatted about everything from hypochondria to writing, the forest of pathetic half mast flags around Denton Corner. He gave me a handsomely reprinted copy of In The Cinema, with three quotes on the back, from Tom Compton, Robin and one from me.   Fond farewells with Stephen, and we shall meet again soon. Hopped on a bus and got off at Hill Rise and walked home a lengthy route from there, listening to Jeeves stories.  A reading afternoon. As writing seems a bit tricky at the moment. I finished Zygmunt Bauman's Liquid Times then  Bluets by Maggie Nelson. After a promising chapter or two Bauman's book, written in that achingly tedious style favoured by academics, made one or two obvious points. So it's a meh...