October 1st 2018
I am sitting on a wooden chair at a wooden table in Sanderstead library [though I’ve never been here I have seen it many times over the years from the bus and from the passenger seat of many cars]. The room is empty but for the librarian and myself. She weaves in and out of the shelves, pushing a trolley of books.
The table is laid out with dinner plates and cutlery for many people and the tablecloth is paper. I have written on the paper –
‘I’ve got fourteen miles of goosebumps. Twenty-eight days of pack lunch. Sixteen ways of shooting pump and forty-two tons of remember.’
October 2nd 2018
Gary T (from the late 90s) has a new car. It is a black, modern, four-wheel drive. We are parked in a quiet, narrow street in a version of Bath. We talk. It is a cool, clear, spring morning. A large crowd slowly marches up the street towards us. Their number is so vast that it blocks the street completely from side to side. Perhaps they are football fans.
We lock the doors and Gary T presses a button and the windows tint black. The crowd swarms around the car. I can hear their boots and their voices as they pass. The car shakes. It is as if we are invisible to them. Eventually there is silence again.
Gary T drives me to a house. It is a version of Pippa S’ home. I go in. The wallpaper is blue and red (flowers). The floor is covered with paper and crockery and clothes and vinyl. There are cats everywhere. In one corner of the room is a bed. At the end of the bed is a complicated set-up where the cats sleep. Despite the chaos, Pippa S appears (as always) to be quite happy. Something that I see on a shelf makes me sad.
October 3rd 2018
‘Maggie B, in pelts and furs, her hair wild and henna’d copper/her smile as wide as the river Tyne. Her flat is tiny. But she fills it with her presence, her essence, her smell.’