September 15th 2019
P. Brady is working in Tynemouth on a building site. It is a pleasant surprise to see him in a local bar one night. He hasn’t changed in nearly 25 years. As the last bell sounds I ask him what he’s doing in the morning – I’m playing a gig on the beach to advertise the barbershop; it’s a silly idea, but, you know…
“I’d like to, but I’m going to Exeter,” he says.
“Yeah, I’ve got to pick up a present for the boy’s birthday.”
“I saw a toy horse in a shopwindow there.”
“There’s a toyshop in Tynemouth,” I say.
“Yeah, but I’ve really got my heart set on this one in Exeter.”
September 16th 2019.
A puzzle. Layers of coloured tissue paper, all laid out on top of each other. They are all different shapes – circles, squares, triangles. My task is to arrange them, with tweezers, into a more pleasing construct of colour and shape: to tessellate. It is quiet, thoughtful work. But to what end beyond visual pleasure?
What better purpose could there be?
September 17th 2019.
K. Mac knocks on the door. I’m not so surprised to see her, despite it being 25 years. She wants to use the toilet.
“Does Bob Dylan know that you’re reading his book in the bathroom?” she asks when she comes out.
“Bog Dylan,” is all I can think to say to this.
We both find this possibly the funniest thing ever. We go to bed.