Cancer 25° (July 15)


Awoke yesterday feeling pretty good. We had a formal-ish breakfast outside of eggs and sage on toast with some leftover veggies from last evening. I did a bit of writing before lunch which was a little private birthday affair for M, who somehow got up and played a tennis match. These people are made of iron. Anyway, even though I’m trying not to eat bread and pasta (I’ve already been eating bread at every meal) I was super excited that we were having pasta—tagliatelle with courgette and beans direct from the garden seasoned with lemon and tarragon and chive—and a huge salad. I’ve been the dressing maker for all the meals. There was an encore of birthday cake and coffee and then M. opened his prezzies. For the man who has everything we got a tee shirt from Hatches Fish Shop and Produce in Wellfleet. Now his life is complete. After lunch No. 1 and her friends set off back to London and we took a much needed walk in the country with the doggie. I was explaining Provincetown to Gbf and in the telling it sounded absolutely insane which of course it is.

Today marks eight weeks until festival and I have to laser focus on getting some money in. The first thing that requires is some working wifi. Anyway I will have to plug away for an hour at least per day and come up with some clever ways of cajoling people into place. If I go down the list now and try to get the usual suspects on board at least the next three days then I can probably leave off it for a few weeks. That means I can solely focus my morning writing ritual on the beautiful chapter sample at hand and if I get just a page of draft down a day I will have over ten pages to play with upon my return. And then I can spend an hour or so a day refining those pages while focusing fully for six weeks on optimizing the festival experience, getting the press release out and such, so that by the end of that six week period, both projects will have come to fruition.

Back to yesterday: After our nice walk which was seriously rural, walking through some tall grass in parts where the path was grown over, we returned to the house and everyone went there own way for an hour or so. P. made a slew of sandwiches which she wrapped in brown paper and tied with red-white bakery/butcher’s string—Parma ham, salami, cheese and some other meat—as they were setting off on a multi-eastern-European-country trip, starting with a crossing to Copenhagen, first thing in the morning from Kings Cross. I suppose they will have slept in our beds, never mind. Little No. 4 was in charge of making supper—the aformentioned charcuterie items with toasted bread, green salad and then aubergine steaks with white rice and soya sauce. First, P was drinking a faux g&t while I had real one and some open red with the meal. M had come down looking like he was setting off to work which wasn’t not true. He was basically bathed and dressed in what he would wear the next morning to work, driving back to London (with Nos. 4 and 2 along with her Gbf), directly after dinner, just to take off his outfit long enough to sleep. I must remember to tell N. that M. knows one of the members of Fat Cops.

With everyone gone we cleaned up a bit and watched the first episode of Sexual Education which was really charming if totally unlikely, but really good fun. I slept in a separate room, again, in advance of what surely would have been a night of snoring; I can only guess. And feeling a bit rough this morning I pounded flat and fizzy water and had a whopping three coffees. No. 3 took us to the train station in Diss in time for a train that was cancelled and now we are on the next one and P. is taking us to a Szechuan place for lunch which I’m super excited about. I wrote Jacks back last even and hit all the marks she raised in her text. We will see the Lee Krasner exhibit at the Barbican this afternoon and then we have a rezzie at Braun in Columbia Road. I am very aware as I’m typing this that I am communicating in British fashion both in language and in the accent in my head. This morning Anne, the housekeeper asked me if I was from London. I am such a chameleon in this way and always have been and I make no apologies for it. Sometimes (especially for a Libra) are truer self is the abstract self that we direct in becoming, not the self that would reflect our inherited lot, origins and early childhood conditioning.

There seem to be a lot of well-heeled hippies in this part of the world. There are a number of people, men and women both, with their hair up in (mostly gray) buns. As it is, England has that scruffy chic thing going on. But I’m getting a kind of vibe akin to what I imagine Cornwall might be like. It’s good that today is purely social I must say, and that tomorrow can be really more exclusively focused on work. P. has some great ideas about the collection even if only in so far as it is reminding me of things I want to do. Someone is listening to music on the train without headphones which is obviously meant to annoy. I just shot him a look and he, a boy, really, shot one back that said: yeah, I’m actually doing this to annoy people. It’s working. Oh well one must choose their battles in life and I’ll take this as an opportunity to let myself be exposed to new trends in music. P. just showed me No. 1’s cartoon for Tortoise. I have to really dig in there and see what that publication is all about.


To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree pointof the Sabian Symbol will be one degree higher than the one listed for today. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365 or 6 days per year—so they near but not exactly correlate.


Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go!
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