No air - no grace.
Back to Lysander on the bus then. A very fat person has just sat down next to me - the bulky imposition jolting me out of my internal reveries. The fat person pushes a bag into my thigh and starts scanning the evening free-sheet. The head appears to be attached directly to the shoulders which appear encased in a coat made out of a blue blanket. The fat person constantly sniffles into a tissue as another nearby sneezes repeatedly. The fat person gets off at The Angel.
A small person with two extra large plastic bags sits down. The forecast 'heavy rain' has not materialised.
I've just noticed that the small person has gone. Must have been whilst I was in conversation with my boss. A normal sized person with a normal sized bag is sitting next to me now.
The boat is isolated at its mooring now as our neighbours fore and aft (as they say) have departed. The new lettering on the side looks good I think.
Being a fat person myself - nearly two stone overweight according to the machine at Homerton Hospital - I wonder what it's like sitting next to me on a bus - I close my eyes and long for the obliteration of sleep. I love sleeping. It brings forth not monsters (it used to in pre-pubescence) but warmth and tenderness. I'm a better person in my dreams and the night will not be long enough.
So...It's been one of those days which I just wanted to get through with the minimum of fuss and effort. I wanted nothing to happen of any significance.
My nose has been running all day - I've had (and still do have) a dull headache and I feel exhausted. I hate the way feeling unwell has made me more ungenerous and ratty than normal...
I don't like what I've written today but two of the (connected) rules I've set myself with this blog is never re-write - and go with what emerges. Don't spend time pre-meditating. Is that three?