Aftermath

I go to bed at 3:00am after staying up and drinking (various ales, cherry ciders). Or rather not bed, as I decide to sleep on the two seat sofa in my room for some reason which escapes me now, but seemed to make sense in the middle of the night. I wake while it is still dark, and decide I would much rather sleep in my own bed. I stumble over something in my room (my bed is less than two meters from my sofa) and collapse under the covers. 

I dream of Burnside, back in Kinloss. I rarely dream of Burnside now. In this dream Burnside (the square of houses reserved for the officers and their families of RAF Kinloss) was connected to something called the 'night-suburbs'. I was there with two or three other people. Burnside was completely abandoned. Empty houses shadowing in a day whose horizon was marked with a reddened sunset. In one of the houses, a number of doors - these doors were the houses themselves (I'm not sure how this worked out). The houses - all of Burnside - was, of course, haunted by some never explained force.

I wake with my alarm at 11:00am - one thing, no matter how drunk, I can be certain of, is that I will always set my alarm. I go into the living room, look at the collection of empty ale bottles on the table, Andy's half glass of port, still undrunk. I look at the top of the stereo that I had to remove because a Sonne Hagal CD got stuck, and I was unable to remove. On the table, there is the mirror from Andy's bathroom cabinet. I have no idea how that got there.

I had a cup of tea and heated myself up a vegetarian farmhouse pie. I watched a bit of The Railway Children and continued reading The Corner by David Simon, about drug takers ('fiends') in inner-city Baltimore in the 1990s.