Something Seen, Something Dreamed, Something To Be Desired

I stood outside the front door for about five minutes last night, watching a firework display on the northern horizon. From my distant viewpoint it was a miniature display, occupying a very limited portion of sky- as if contained within a glass dome- like one of those collections of pretty things- shells, artificial flowers, dead birds- that the Victorians liked to have on their sideboards.

I dreamed I was in Rome for an exhibition of work by Picasso. Rome was glorious. The gallery curator's boyfriend (who looked like Corporal Klinger from M.A.S.H.) had enlisted me to steal a document from the curator's safe. Entry to the gallery was expensive- over 100 pounds of Lire or Euros or whatever the currency was- so he and his accomplice suggested I sneak in through a back door. They gave me a key to the safe. Why they couldn't do the robbery themselves I've no idea.

Will the Patterson kerfuffle bring down the Johnson government? It should. Because the combination of incompetence and venality is awesome to behold. It's as if our politicians- not only here but all round the world- were prompting us, pushing us, daring us to dismantle the systems that permit their bad behaviour and replace them with something better...