An imperfect view

Very tired today. Calliope thoughtfully woke me up at six. We drove off to Haywards Heath to Lorriane's pal Jo's house which she is about to rent to us for the hopefully short period in between moving out of The Old Church Hall and moving into our new home. A nice enough little place, in a leafy little ex council estate. We are calling it our cats and skeletons move, i.e. just taking the cats and skeleton belongings.

Home via Trading Boundaries, to see an exhibition of Roger Dean's work. Dean was a hero in my teenage years, not just because of the fact he did the Yes album covers, but also his book Views made me think about design and architecture in a whole new way. But the exhibition was slapdash, and did the work no justice, like some kind of disorganised Brighton Open house. Good to see some of the prints, and so on however. But disappointing overall. As we drove off saw Dean himself from a distance hugging people. He'll always be a hero to me.

Home and both Lorraine and I feeling throaty and very tired. Slept in the afternoon, and I wanted to do nothing at all today other than slump, an objective I accomplished with success.

Meanwhile on Richard's blog is one of my poems, which is rather nice of him.