under another sun

A good morning's work, gradually shaping arguments and murdering babies, also known as rewriting and editing. Took myself out for a lunchtime stroll, Bob called and we talked for half an hour. Feeling very run down still, and decided to ease back on the fasting diet, while still dosing myself with antibiotics. Here and there were heartening intimations of Spring, including crocuses. Popped into the walled garden, and pleased to see the fish swimming happily, after being iced in. More good ideas in the afternoon too, about a possible Pollard & Kenny wheeze. Below a whiff of Spring.

A tramp Woke up this morning dreaming about my friend Tim, who died of AIDS in 1994. I was half-aware in the dream that he was dead, and I was joking with him that he should look a lot worse. He told me I look like a tramp, and I woke up feeling vaguely insulted. What did the dream Tim mean by it? I kept asking myself in an Agent Cooperish way. Amazing stored detail, and I was able to clearly see his face all day as if I'd seen him only yesterday. I am sure this was triggered by looking at my old MS the story of which had featured him. Worked more on the new Pollard & Kenny project. Then felt rather paralysed by gloom for I ache, and my stomach is uncomfortable. I hate March almost as much as I hate January and I want to be curled up in a nest of leaves somewhere. But Spring usually seems me return to form. A long chat with Mum helped greatly however, and after this I had a productive and enjoyable afternoon. Lorraine much improved today, and took herself back to work. In a rev...