Bredonborough Awake in the night
Bredonborough.
Awake in the night with a current difficult situation that DGM finds itself facing. Not of our own making, but with repercussions. A letter of response formed in my head, in terms I found surprisingly frank: You’ve fucked up big time and a shitload of grief is going to rain on your head. I knew also that my Sister Patricia would strongly disapprove of such bad language, and would be appalled if I included this in the Diary. Nevertheless. Then I went back to sleep.
Rising at 06.40 a hurtling, perky and playful WillyFred pissed on my naked feet as they hit the floor to begin my day, with definition, clarity, certainty and wetness.
Over the road to World HQ…
… for morning reading…
… and e-fury. The first e-letter of the day began: You’ve fucked up big time and a shitload of grief is going to rain on your head. Apologies to the Sistery Person and other Diary-visiting innocents who now know, if they didn’t before, that in addition to venality, heartlessness, hyprocrisy and leadership, That Awful Man is also vulgar and foul-mouthed.
Organizing bookshelves…
… data whirring.
Home for lunch in The Humans’ tea break, returning to e-fury and ongoing data-whirring.
The Humans’ Raison d’Etre has just called: writing is done for the day. Back across the early-evening street I…
II...
19.45 Supper with The Humans. They have had a second good writing day, but are all dribbling. An early gentle ahead.
