Cancer 22° (July 12)
So after chatting with Freddy I did need to prioritize bathing and shaving and otherwise trying to feel like some semblance of a human being. The plan was that I’d do all that and we’d go for a walk before M. returned to take us all to dinner. Well I came down stairs once again fully dressed, now, to go out. But we sat, the two of us, in the garden, mustering the strength before deciding to go all the way back up to take another nap instead. S. definitely did but I’m nost sure I actually did but it was restful all the same. And then I descended the staircase just as M. arrived home; he ushered me to the garden for a chat before we had to leave to stroll to our reservation. We has a little bit more of funny chat, picking up from the morning; and already I’m feeling like I’ve been here several days, not that I’ve just that morning arrived. Then we four set out to dinner where we would be met by E. the eldest of this household’s particular brood, who lives in a flat in Shoreditch, which would be about equidistant to the restaurant as it was for us.
We wove through that bit behind Sadler Wells and down to stroll along the canal where, given the time of day, was strewn with runners and bikers and people partying a bit and hanging out. Well heeled people having drinks at cafe-bars and more riverfolk looking types sitting along the water drinking and spliffing a bit. We saw in the water two swans and three cygnets a short distance away and then, with a shout (what I assued to be) the male swan took flight toward us and then sort of ran along the water, flapping and then landing with a very impressive diplay indeed. It really was quite something and I thought it was a show of preemptive aggression toward anyone who was going to mess with his mate and three gray fluffy babes. We left the canal and continued our stroll and ended up at our destination, Sardine. It is P’s favorite place apparently and it looked very cool and casual and on a Provencal theme. They had a cookbook a stack of which greeted one upon entry. We sat at the back near the loo. E. arrived we ordered drinks and they brought some tapenade on toast. They only had one onglet left which I know M. intended to have but, in signature generosity, he offered up to Freddy for whom it was promptly reserved. I had a plate of tiny clams and then some pork with beans and I’m guessing escarole. It was nice. We all shared one bottle of wine and I skipped dessert. My stomach was in extended travel mode and I wasn’t feeling that great when we returned.
As you may know English people don’t use window screens nor do they have storm windows. So in winter it’s always quite drafty and in summer I never know how far to open a window. There is no air conditioning, nor has one typically needed it. But as you ready for bed and open the window you cope with a few things. One is the fact that you hear everything from the street, even in what might be a sleepy square like this one. The other is this fear that something is going to fly in at any given moment. A nocturnal pidgeon, a bat. I get very used to it in a day or so and come to love the open window but at first I feel a little panicked and thus keep the window nearly closed. And it’s been hot. Anyway I was feeling sweaty and very full, swollen really, like my entire digestive system shut down operations. And there was the usual street noise which is always kind of like a Shakespearean lullaby. But last night there was this crazed young woman, homeless I’m assuming circling the square in the middle of the road shouting to herself. I looked out and she was sort of swirling about and mumbling very loudly and looked up and even said hello. But it wasn’t a friendly hello it was rather kind of menancing. And then there were large, loud circling helicopters that sounded like they were going to come right through the window. I did manage to fall asleep finally and was pretty dripping with perspiration for much of the night which was marked by fitful sleep.
Then around four o’clock we started hearing this loud wailing. It seems the woman, whom I’d yet to confirm was the same woman, was making her way back she was crying and screaming and shouting the name of what sounded like Ali or Ami or something of that sort. It got very loud and very intense and I looked and and sure enough it was her; and at that moment four very large police women began circling and actually tracking her and she started to walk away. They followed and suddenly everyone was out of sight. Five minutes later the four policewomen started walking back and they were laughing with each other and almost as loud as the wailing woman had been. It wasn’t even four thirty. It was shocking how loud the whole crazy night turned out to be. And yet I still fell back to sleep even after that, waking a couple of times, having brief conversations with S. who set the alarm for eight thirty, which was when the carpet man was meant to arrive. We awoke from the alarm and I shot up and looked out the window and saw a man downstairs with an open trunk (boot) of his car so I ran down the five flights that feel like ten and let him in. And then I had to run up and get S. to come down as he was going to be soon blocking the stairwell; so I fetched her we went downstairs, found some yoghurt and a few blueberries to eat and planned our journey to Suffolk which entailed jumping in an car to catch a train from Liverpool Street station to Diss which is exactly what we are now doing.
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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