Frosty

I dreamed I was editing a collection of writings about spirituality. George Harrison had written something for me that was hopelessly feeble and incoherent- which he told me was his masterpiece. "Very nice" I said. He picked up on my lack of enthusiasm and I had to spend the rest of the dream trying to salve his ego and rebuild our friendship.

In another dream our house in Oldham was being used as a mustering point for conscripts in whatever war we happened to be fighting at the time. I found it inconvenient. Out back a couple of women were cage-fighting and an apartment was burning.

Yesterday morning was frosty, this morning is frostier.

Axioms

1. It's one thing for a government to make laws, quite another for it to get them enforced and obeyed.

2. The more laws a government makes the more it distances itself from the people it governs- and the more it distances itself the more vulnerable it becomes.

Sunset At The Three Thirty

I woke from a mid-afternoon nap to find that the sun had already sunk behind the Downs. I looked at the clock- which said the time was a little after three thirty. Sunset at three-thirty? It's just not right. Ailz and I proceeded to improvise a comedy routine about Brighton having stolen our sun. (Well it amused us). Brighton is bigger than Eastbourne and sits to the west of us on the other side of the hills; we decided a while ago that it was The Enemy.

The frost hasn't shifted from those patches of garden that the sun didn't reach. However the patches that the sun did reach were pleasantly warm around the middle of the day- and I took advantage of this to plant some bulbs.

Less than a fortnight now until the shortest day- after which the time of sunset will start creeping back to four and then to five and so onwards. It's something I'm looking forward to.