under another sun

Four kinds of English grey Challenged by this morning. In the night I had turned over in bed, and a minor tweak in my back suddenly became a sudden yikes!-inducing pain. Drifted back into sleep until Calliope thoughtfully rubbed her face into my open and drooling mouth at 6.00am. Up snuffling, and loping like an orc off to London to get fangs sorted. Off to Strand on the Green where, being early, I took the photos in the entry below. Then late into the agency. Curiously, nothing much to do once I was there. Had a fruit smoothie with Betsy at lunch, and sat about with my head full of Paul Klee images, longing to be released back into the wild. Doodled Paul Klee style pictures while attending an interminable meeting this afternoon, listening to a teleconference of clients giving their opinions about creative work. Home to a clingy cat who is balking at food in protest at my absence, and cold chicken sandwiches for me. And then a nice chat with Lorraine... Then bed... Bed calls me with it...

A Prodigal return Work hard but interesting at the moment. No time for a swim today. But after work headed off to Chiswick, where I had a splendid evening with Matty and First Matie (sporting a cloak and dagger) in the Bull's Head on Strand on the Green. This is a fine and noble establishment, and it was my local for at least ten years. Now Matty actually lives next door to it. Nostalgia gripped me at every turn, either that or some of the cheeky beers we gulped. Then we popped across the road to a nice restaurant where I ate a lamb burger, and so did Matt. Kate ate leaves. There is supposed to be a passage that passes from The Bull's Head under the river to Oliver's Island. So called because Oliver Cromwell was supposed to have dodged down the passage to escape, having been trapped by some bounders who were going to treat him in entirely Cavalier fashion. I remember talking to one of the old landlords a while ago, who said he had searched in vain for the passage. I firml...