Most days I like to spend horizontal, belly-down and dreaming, haloed in skunk-smoke with my pen in my mouth. Today, however, was a day of action. I went to the library in my super neon Bat-Man trainers and came home with treasure including Taste: A Story of Britain Through Its Cooking by Kate Colquhoun, A Book of Nonsense by Mervyn Peake and Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection by Julia Kristeva. I am going to have dead funny dreams. On my way home I looked at all the rubbish I could see. Then we cleaned the house, more or less. When I emptied the toaster, out fell six toothpicks. That was a terrible fire hazard. Nobody admitted responsibility, but I don’t think I need to say who I suspect. Or what.....
I think the sentence “But who? Or what.......?” is one of the scariest in the world. I am proper squiffy. I have had the cheapest wine known to humanity, I have had it here, and I have had lots of it. And olives stuffed with whole cloves of garlic, the ultimate misanthropic snack. I will sign off with my thoughts on spring.
Underneath the eiderdown
Of prepubescent leaves
The purblind roots snout
And wean to green