under another sun

Another poor night, and general uncomfortableness. Worked on cow-based concepts this morning, then a lunchtime walk. Called by Germansand then this dealt with, the instant I sat down other things cropped up. When finally I could read, I fell asleep almost immediately.   Resolved this evening to call the doctor again, as general pain and uncomfortableness is not improving. Gah. Just finding myself peeved at low energy. What little I do have squandered on thinking about cows. Podcast stuff not yet done, and I haven't written for ages. Feeling frustrated In the evening watched the last episode of The Expanse. What now? The void after The Expanse.

Woke this morning having had an unusually detailed dream about an Australian war poet, who flew Brewster Buffalos for the Royal Australian Air Force in the far east during world war 2.  In the dream I discovered his collected poems,  and another volume of collected letters and journals, in a bookshop and learned all about him. Woke up remembering everything except his name. I used to dream about books with my name on them. Now I dream about a dead man on the other side of the world. Made me remember the dear old  Victor West , an English WW2 poet I was mates with in my twenties and thirties. Anyway spent my rare idle moments wondering what the dream meant .  Work briefly enlived by Keith's internet going down and him having an enraged phone call with Virgin. Lost about an hour to these shenanigans. Otherwise image hunting to support our slightly strange concepts... near realistic busts of people made out of fabric, people staring through ice, medical doctors from the...

An utter deluge first thing, then off this morning to Steyning, to have brunch with Dawn at her house. It had been her birthday a few days ago. Also invited where Dawn's old pals Mark and Jane and Denise, all of whom I have met several times. I bumped into Jane in the park the other day with Toby. Most newsworthy was that we also met Paul, Dawn's new man friend. He was well read open and chatty, and born the same year as me.  Everyone had bought assorted food with them, and Dawn had been making her famous quiche with a baked rice base. Lorraine and I brought a courgette loaf, which we had made yesterday.  Dawn often has good parties, and this one was featured lunchtime dancing in her wee front room, and Dawn stage diving from her sofa into everyone's arms. She is prone to this sort of thing from time to time. All very cheery. Dawn and I swapped birthday presents too and she gave me a book called All Art is Ecological by Timothy Morton, who the back jacket calls the philoso...