25/07
I discover a door in my flat and I step through it. It leads to a large garage. There are tools hung on nails on the walls as dad would do. There is the smell of petrol, of cut-wood. A washing machine rumbles and sudded water is leaking from beneath it. I have returned to Cliff House.
I enter the house. It is cluttered with everything my parents ever owned. Mum is watching television.
“I wondered if you were coming,” she says. She is in her early thirties, though I am still in my 50s.
I don’t know if I’m early or late or even why I’m here again at our childhood home.
26/07
Sean G and Sam F and me are in Axminster. It is raining. We’re in a side room of what was (in 1974) still the Town Hall (perhaps it still is?). We are practicing a sea shanty but as it progresses I feel more and more left out as I cannot follow the song structure.
Sam says quietly into my ear, “Shall I suggest you do some vocals?”
I decline. I go outside and smell the rain.
27/07
Surprised to find Jess C asleep in a forest. Surprised to find myself in a forest. The air smells of sap and pine. The underfoot is soft. She sleeps quite at ease beneath the trees. So I sit beside her and wait for her to wake up. The clouds move incredibly quickly above the tree tops and it soon becomes night. When she wakes she says, “My tights are like the stars.” And, actually, suddenly, they are – sparkling in the moonlight.
nickreeves 
Fragments of dreams, like the glimpse of stars between the clouds. You weave words that leave a trace.
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Thanks!
Sweet dreamzzz
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I suddenly want sparkly starry tights very, very badly this minute. Such a lovely rhythm in all of your pieces, Nick.
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me, too (tea double oh).
hope all is swell in the amc world.
see you at the bar.
sparkle motion xo
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let’s play some bowie tonight, yeah? He was a madly beautiful starry tights kind of creature…. sparkle motion, I like this so much. xo
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they usually want $1/£1 for three plays…
but this is the C-R Arms.
(don’t tell everyone, but the button at the back allows free -YES- plays).
Boys Keep Swinging
Rock n Roll with Me
Black Country Rock
…Off to the bar. What’s ya poison?
I’m on a Pinot. What you having?
*passes knife* cheesecloth shirt, smile, licking a rizla paper.
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Oh the YES button, how clever – wondered what that was there for … now then! I was not kidding about the gin martini, straight if you please.
Nick? Why do they call it “Arms”… is that the same as “Tavern” or something like this?
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*we put the button there*
Straight, certainly.
Uh-huh, It’s some old(e) English thing. ‘Arms’ being Royalist from the civil war (gazes into distant past and it all becomes a history lesson blur…but speaks with an apparent authority) and ‘Tavern’ being more anachronistic: a tavern being a stop-over hostelry; a stagecoach stop.
There’s always a Royal Oak in most towns, hinting at the tree Charles 1 hid in – huh? he hid in so many trees, so many towns?!
Got you a double.
Have your tunes come on yet?
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