Sunday morning and the sun is shining, the sky is blue and there is no sign of autumn anywhere. Am meeting Em for a picnic in an hour, so hope to find some pockets of fall resistance in the backwaters of Hove Park, some alleyway that tastes more of October, a street corner where the light falls like it should on troubled September afternoons...
Was down the beach yesterday briefly. Half a pint with Em and her parents at The View. The place swathed in summeriness. Felt more like June or July, except June or July this year felt like rainy spring days. I have enough trouble with keeping myself up to date with linear time as it is. I should like the seasons to at least make an attempt at behaving themselves.
Exhausted last night. Em was working and Andy joined Al and Claire et al at the Prince Albert. I elected to stay in but after three very small beers was incapable of doing anything but lying on my bed and snoozing through albums (I listened to all of Reigns' back catalogue We Lowered a Microphone into the Ground, The House on the Causeway. I fell asleep properly during The Widow Blades).
A night of vaguely disturbing (none of which I recall now) and one mildly coincidental, utterly inconsequential dreams. I dreamt I was talking to Em, and she said that she had missed a call on her phone. I woke up and called her (about half an hour ago now) and she didn't answer. She rang back and said she had missed my call.
