10:30am, Sunday morning. Costa Coffee in the North Laine.
I watch Sarah come in, stand by the table I am at and then leave. I see her walk into the studio. Has she really not seen me? I phone her, she comes back in. She actually hadn't seen me. She suggests that she was looking out for my usual black and I was wearing a red shirt. I think some kind of dimensional irregularity is more likely.
After a lovely coffee with Sarah, I discover it is a lovely day. I wander down to the beach, and in the time-lapsed November heat, I sit on the pebbles for a few hours, working on a drawing. I try not to think of the rubbish A3 sketch book I have bought (paper too thin, the ink bleeds).
I meet up with Al, Claire and Graham at the Meeting Place cafe. Graham is down for the weekend for the Colour Out of Space festival. We walk up the Lewes Road - some exhibition in Phoenix Place, but it is closed. We look through the windows. Skeletal animals melded together - hands coming out of ribcages holding eggs, long alligators with wrong heads dressed rags. 'Looks like Dr Mengele has been at work' says Graham.
We go to the Basketmakers and talk about ghosts and serial killers, plane crash sites and childrens television shows.
After they head off to the festival, I head home. It seems to take me an age to get home. I have dinner and am exhausted, and fall asleep on my bed at about 10:30am, listening to a 53 minute drone track called 'Himmelhvaelv' by a musician (or perhaps group of musicians though I think this is unlikely) called Rumforskning.
That was such a quick weekend.
