02/02/20 Jayne L, dressed in green, beautiful and sad again, decorates the fireplace with photos of the past. I gaze out from within a black and white polaroid - another room, another season, cross-legged on a carpet (I remember it blue) at an open cupboard. I see her try the pictures here, here, and here. … Continue reading dream diaries…81
Perhaps I'm more intrigued with the ghost of John Simon Ritchie - useless musician, drug addict, spiteful bully, sneering poster boy - than I imagine? He returns to haunt me only ever once a year; I hear his rattling padlocked chain and the drag of those stolen engineer boots before I see him. Oh, but I … Continue reading Tea Stained.
29/01/20 Oh, to live in the world of The Waltons! I see now that this has always been a dream of mine. Not so much the poverty (though our levels of economic living are most probably comparable), but the simplicity of the hours, the years; the honest home cooking; the passing down of the clothes … Continue reading dream diaries…80
