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Eleven Days

Saturday 7th March, beautiful day

Classical Relief was pretty good, the jokes old fashioned, Alfred Brendel's poetry a revelation (and rather scary), Nicola Benedetti took a right pasting, good for her. Stylophone chorus splendid. Quarter final also splendid, tho' watching til the whistle blew had me legging it across Waterloo Bridge in boots not meant for sprinting and most undignified fashion. Luckily Hannah didn't bawl me out as I deserved & we weren't actually late.

Now it's Sunday, and I've finished The Keep Jennifer Egan, of which I'd heard much. It was fun, it was very New York, small world, disconcerting finale. Hadn't we already decided that stuff about turning the Castle of Unease into a detox hotel for the well-heeled was, er, rubbish on many levels? A deep comic book. Have started the plasterer's tub nursery, the yearly ritual. Half a bucket of spawn so far, wow that water's cold, cold and crawling with weird living things, down there in the dark, that squirm away from my hand. Dead eldritch.


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