party over

The party was again a great success - lots of people along, (a number of guests by several degrees of separation), vast numbers of empty bottles and fagbutts the next day, and a good time had by all. In fact, there were no disasters. It seems there has always been an upset of sorts at each party so far: Mark passing out in the loo after slipping and banging his nose on the basin; Ulka vomiting on the Holy of Holies (my bed, leaving me feeling violated for some weeks); the phantom piss-bottler; Tom setting fire to himself by sitting too close to a candle (and me beating out the flames on his backside with a paper plate)... this time Pasco did crush all my tomato plants with a tumble, drenching himself in wine in the process, but this did not perturb me unduly.

So after getting to bed at about 4, feeling i'd got away with it this time, I slept well until, dreaming in the early hours, I thought that there was someone in my bed. I woke up and discovered that there was indeed a man - Richard fast asleep, squeezed into my single bed with a generous flap of duvet over him. He was snoring gently, but woke easily and crept back to his own bed with a sheepish grin.

joke

excerpt

And swooping down on a missal bound in violet velvet, with gilt clasps, from which, in her hast, she let escape a few of those pictures edged with a band of yellowing paper lace that mark the pages of the feast days, my aunt, while swallowing her drops, began reading the sacred texts as fast as she could, her comprehension of them slightly obscured by her uncertainty as to whether the pepsin, taken so long after the Vichy water, would still be able to catch up with it and make it go down. 'Three o'clock! It's unbelieavable how the time passes!'

A little tap against the wondow-pane, as though something had struck it, followed by a copious light spill, as of grains of sand dropping from a window above, then the spill extending, growing regular, finding a rhythm, turning fluid, resonant, musical, immeasurable, universal: it was the rain.

from 'Swann's Way' M Proust

sgjosjgn

I had a thought. I hope DCW don't mind the bit of unsolicited promotion and reproduction of original yellow artwork on my blog (see earlier) which, given that it is not looked at by more than a handfull of irregulars, most of whom will know me with personal closeness and warmth (and know DCW with that and then some), is hardly going to help them break america. Still, should anyone notice, it is the action rather than the thinking that counts I hope so.

progress

onwards and downwards

things

Two days ago when running down by the canal, i was surprised by a wasp flying up my right nostril and stinging me there. I mention it because it still tingles.

Meanwhile, progress charted:

bandly needed

DAVID CRONENBERG'S WIFE a great band learn more see them play