Dawn poltergeist

Like last night, we slept with the Juliette windows open. But because of Brian's suicidal tendencies we have to close the bedroom door. This means the infernal Calliope scratches at the door like a poltergeist after five o'clock.

Up early with Lorraine, and watering the hanging baskets at seven. The jasmine smelling lovely in the garden. Then working hard on The Second Kind of Darkness despite the soporific heat. Also uploaded digital banner advertising for Edinburgh. A long walk late in the afternoon, still very hot.  Climbed up to the Hollingbury golf course high behind us, and looked at the downs sweltering in the heat, and Brighton below. Listening as I walked to my Tim Winton book of autobiographical essays, The Boy Behind the Curtain. Listening to one where he stayed in Ireland through the winter near what the locals thought of as a tremendously haunted castle. Quite a contrast having your head full of damp winter Ireland while in a heatwave.

Home and I griddled some jerk chicken and snarfed it up with Lorraine, after she came back, very hot looking, from dancing the Charleston saying she made the mistake of doing a jump. Then we watched The Handmaid's Tale again. Really enjoying this.





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