the latter has been turned into … into… a box

I’m woken by the telephone going off in the other room. As I know who it is, I don’t rush to answer as by the time I get there it will be on to the answerphone and a terrible mess will ensue. As it’s too late to return to the dream I was having (I don’t remember what it was about, but as the laws of physics and biology don’t apply, I’m keen to spend time there. Having difficulty with the laws of physics and biology at the moment), We get up and I make bacon and eggs and coffee.

After breakfast, I add to the words I’ve been working on (get Milk out of the way fairly quickly, then get stuck in to Algorithms), when there’s a call from Juan, who’s in the area. We go out to meet him at the South Bank, then wander together, via Trafalgar Square (which is turning into a karaoke version of Las Ramblas, which was Leicester Square’s job, though the latter has been turned into … into… a box, so the painted static people and rubbish bubble-blowers and young people have fled to Trafalgar Square) eventually fetching up at Algerian Coffee, to lay in stocks of caffeine for the next two weeks.

Juan goes off to a Festival, and we return home. I get there first, and finish up Algorithms, then edit the slightly aimless video I’ve shot during the afternoon. Eventually it all gets uploaded.

The new Final Cut is terrific, by the way, speaking as an amateur.

Fish and chips, and then watch the glorious Dean Spanley, which I picked up in a Surbiton charity shop yesterday.