Spooky

Up early and down to work. Lorraine still poorly, and off work fortunately, although doing bits on her laptop until exhausted.  I have felt hot, scratchy-throated, and drained but luckily this never amounts to anything.

Spoke to Mum who said Mas would not be unaccompanied on his trip, should it go forward.

A walk this afternoon, as I was yawning my head off. Went up to Hollingbury Hillfort, and it was so clear I could make out the Isle of Wight. Home, and after chatting to Lorraine, I read a story from Black Static magazine, where I want to get a story. The writer of the rather good story, called Other Houses, Sean Padraic Birnie lives in Brighton. A page or so into the story, I found I was reading about Hollingbury Hillfort, and where I had just been walking. Spooky. But then I guess that is the idea.

After all this fresh air, and horror reading I conked out (see hypochondriacal moan above) on the sofa for half an hour, and fell deeply asleep. A pleasant night in, taking care of poorly wifey, and early to bed.

Below on the bank of the hill fort, looking south west.



 

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