under another sun

An alarming start: 6:45. I'd had a wretched night's sleep. Seems the that orange faced malignant narcissistic rapist racist criminal devil Trump has beaten Kamala Harris to the presidency. Shameful.  Lorraine and I up blearily, and after breakfast and faffing about, caught a train to Brighton, and arrived delayed at Gatwick. Realised at Seaford station I had left my phone at home. No trains via Lewes due to a points failure, so via Brighton to Gatwick. However planes delayed here due to fog, probably mixed up with yesterday's gunpowder. Astonishingly, however, our boarding was only delayed by half an hour of so.  The flight was fine. The small twin engined prop taking off like a flying coach all very smooth. Cramped inside however, but very happy to see Guernsey for the first time in two and a half years as we finally dropped below the low blanket of cloud.  A taxi from the airport. The most miserable taxi driver I've ever met, completely down on every aspect of Guernse...

Uncle Steve again for breakfast. Lorraine microwaved some porridge for him, till it exploded. Then Lorraine off to Eastbourne with Maureen for occupational therapy discussions about showers. Steve hung out with Pat, then made his way home. I had enjoyed getting to know him better.  I spent the morning working on the Kenniad, also getting ready for tomorrow's journey. Also wasted hours having ordered some diazepam from the surgery some time ago. I like to have one with me just in case when I am flying.  After three visits to the pharmacy, three visits to the surgery where just before close of play,  my doctor appeared to explain that I couldn't prescribed this, due to the fact that they couldn't be insured in case someone was drowsy when they needed to escape the plane. Infuriating waste of time.  Meanwhile an email from Auringy saying that there might be a problem with the flight tomorrow.  Home from the futile business at the surgery pausing to quaff a  pi...

Just before I woke up this morning, I had a very clear and detailed dream about how Hillary Clinton had won the US Presidential election by 26 points. Sadly this good news was in a parallel universe. In this reality,  there was the grim reality of a Trump victory. It wasn't a surprise to me, as I had a gut feeling he would win. Not least because like the Brexit campaign, it he had a much better slogan. I can't remember a year when I have felt so personally dismayed by politics, and the world's wilful blunder into danger. Otherwise a day of working on homelessness, from the safety of my office. Still feeling ragged and underpowered with this chest infection. Decided to let my pals in Chiswick know that I would not be coming to their Christmas party tomorrow. A four hour return journey, only to hack on friends and colleagues didn't appeal. Beth, also snuffling and coughing, off to a meeting this lunchtime where she has secured some new part time work. Pulled my horn...