under another sun

Disgusting dream just before waking, tearing hand-sized, spidery, hermit crab-like things from my legs with a pair of those grabby, long-stemmed egg holders. Calliope doing clawing happy feet on me when I woke, which may have added to the dream's horrid realism. Caught up with Janet: Ken has improved a little she told me, and has lots of visitors. She said yesterday he told a joke and had sung a little. Decidedly more Ken-like behaviour. For the time being I am not adding to Ken’s exhausting guest list till the family, staying with Janet, have all visited, but will keep close tabs on Janet. I did some good, but tooth-grindingly slow, work on the business book. Progress of any sort hard to come by. In contrast, Lorraine’s long day was action packed, with her taking charge of the school she works part time at. She had the local press in, a flood, a powercut, and parent problems to deal with, as well as an important meeting after school, which must have gone well considering...

Look at the black rock Had such vividly remembered dreams last night that I got up and wrote them down. I am concious that some people think other people's dreams are the most boring thing imaginable. But here is one of the dreams. I was in a library looking at a volume of Bishop Berkeley, and trying unsuccessfully to read the spines of other books. The library was full of beautiful paintings, and one corner of the room was covered in huge paintings of a cliffy coast. I hurried over to them, thinking they were of Guernsey. But some people, who were somehow my ancestors, were speaking a Scandinavian language I could half understand. One of them said, ‘look at the black rock’, and I looked behind me and saw a standing stone that was grey against the sandy white background of a beach. Then I walked onwards and away from it into what had become a real landscape with my new Scandinavian people. It seems like a new start, and the dream felt very positive. I was intruiged by the fact I w...

Back to the Basketmakers Woke up after dreaming I was visiting a new Channel Island a little to the north west of Guernsey. It was almost flat, and very French, and its waters were full of beatiful fish I'd never seen. Then I was on a ferry which ran into a suddenly freezing sea, and I was the only person with a coat. Once L and I were up and breakfasted off to the Supermarket, and went our separate ways. After doing a few essential things such as hoovering and straightening my house up after the flea traumas, and watching the sea mist roll into town from my study window, went back to the pub. For a belated celebration of John's birthday with Matt and Lorraine. Great fun of course. But I have officially now drunk enough for a while, and want to get on with stuff again. The evening lolling about at home. To my distress, I discovered a flea on my trousers, which depressed me greatly. However I vacuumed a myriad flea corpses today though, so perhaps one flea does not make a summer...

Dream and ice cream Vivid dream just before I woke up of a white bird like a dove changing into breathtakingly beautiful colours. Nobody else in the dream could see them. Woke up feeling that this was a good omen somehow. Grotty and coldy, as was Lorraine. Spent much of the day sleeping, apart from going down to the seaside and sitting on the pebbles to eat soft ice cream with flakes.

A vision in Villiers Street Up late again feeling a bit groggy. A night of significant seeming dreams. In one I was taking a small toddler, a thought daughter, to the house in Guernsey where I lived as a child. I took her into it, knowing the house to be haunted, and was expecting at any moment something frightening to happen, but nothing did. When I woke up I had a strong sense of a new start. It felt good. Off to work, the train tunnelling through thick fog. Work still busy but not too bad... Snuck off at lunchtime and met the French Bloke for a quick and cheery beer which was excellent. I can't remember the last time we went for a beer. After work I went into Soho to meet the usual bunch of ex-colleagues in the Crown and Two Chairman pub, and then off to eat at the Delhi Brasserie. Usual mixture of industry gossip (this is the closest thing I get to networking) and stories -- Marcella talking about her recent trip to Morocco for example. There were six of us tonight: young James...