Day 485: Spiritual Squatting

The humanity of a person I was finding challenging shone through today and really woke me up. Even before that, I'd been noticing that I'd been confusing the behaviour with the person. The behaviour, some of it, is irritating, but it comes from a need for something, not an intention or any kind of badness.

The humanity, too, of those around him, touched me. What we believe to be The Right Thing To Do had to give way to his choice of what to do. If I've learnt one thing, it's that this is a person who handles being told what to do as badly as I do when he does it to me.  If I can do anything, it's to do him the honour of accepting his choice.

I had an enjoyable job to do today, and I did it. I enjoyed my train journey, at a luxurious table that nobody else seemed to want. I failed to pursue a fully Ayurvedic diet today, both content-wise and time-wise. I did better, though, than if I hadn't been attempting it. I didn't go to yoga today, but I did a little bit. I'd planned/hoped to go this evening, but the enjoyable job took precedence. 

Today has been pear day. I've eaten four of them, each of them different but all of them pretending to be hard and then turning out to be ready with their juice. I ate an orange, too. And half an apple, but it was a disappointment, so I stopped. Tomorrow, maté and more work. And a letter going out to a company. Yes. That. 

I enjoyed receiving a lovely smile from a stranger at a bus stop. She was just standing there. We didn't connect much - just that little moment, but every single one is a gift. 

I had a tiny frustration weep earlier. There were elements of self-pity in it. I found it interesting. I'm looking forward to my next change to work on this stuff. There are chances all the time, and there's a big one coming up. Good. I have things floating about in my mind. I'm meditating every day, even if it's only for a short while. It might be helping. It was so nice to practise yoga with Lilley in York. I loved it, I did. Let's do more of that. Tomorrow, Lilley, in your honour, squats.

Day 484: Zappelnudel

So much to be deeply thankful for this weekend. SO much. I travelled from Birmingham to York with relative smoothness. I remember nothing of particular note and nothing of particular displeasure. That’s not to say there was nothing of note on offer – I just didn’t notice it. Intense dreams about being bitten by a strong-jawed dog, which had my ankle in its mouth and was trained to kill… I kept looping the dream, in which I was trying to avoid being killed – if I hit the ground, I thought, it’d go for my throat. It looped so many times that I tried to change the dream and let it kill me, see what would happen, but the subconscious survival instinct must have been strong, because that bit of dream wouldn’t be dreamed.

I had the pleasure of Lilley and her new(ish) daughter, Tulsi, all weekend, and Daniel just at the end of it. Lilley fills me with inspiration and love. She’s one to admire, that one, and I feel very grateful indeed that she’s my friend. She’s a mother to be reckoned with, as evidenced by one of the calmest, sweetest, most inquisitive and confident babies I’ve ever had the pleasure to brood over.

Tulsi is small and strong and long like a lanky teenager, only in cutest baby form. She has seeky eyes and a face so expressive, it’s like some kind of art installation projection… every second, something new is going on. It all has meaning – you just have to work out what. She’s got a fabulous ‘working shit out’ face, which often transforms into an open-mouthed beam of delight.

pleased with her cheese

She spends a lot of time on the floor, exploring and discovering. She’s interested in textures.When Lilley interacts with her, it’s with 100% presence… when she’s the object of attention, it’s full, attentive, and full of wonder. Lilley’s response to her is mostly delight, whatever she does. Just loving her for being who she is, as she put it, whether that entails her doing what would be easier for Lilley, or not. Lilley stays calm and loving and encouraging all the time. It’s a fantastic model, and Tulsi embodies the evidence of this.

Having met her only the day before, I took Tulsi out for a walk yesterday afternoon. We went to Lee and Tanya’s house, to visit them and their Staffie, Tilly. Tulsi was calm and curious in the pram and when we arrived. She knows Lee and Tanya and has come across the dog before, but nevertheless, she’s only five months old and her mum is nowhere to be seen; the dog is three times her size – she didn’t even flinch. She played easily on the floor and allowed herself to be passed between us for a good 45 minutes, maybe even an hour. Then she let me know it was time to make a move, so she went back in the pram and we walked. She slept for another 40 minutes and then woke up, confused at coming back into the world, but still calm to be greeted by a stranger, not a parent. How cool is that? Well done, Lilley Harvey – you are doing a fabulous job.

We entertained ourselves (more than her) by speaking to her in different languages. French was our favourite. In French, I am her Tante Hibou. In German, die Tante Uhu. In German, she’s a Zappelnudel (dancy/twisty-turny little noodle). We sang ‘Alouette’, but changing ‘je te plumerai’ – ‘I will pluck your feathers’ to ‘je te boufferai’ – ‘I will eat you up’. Much more fun, and creates justification for munching on/kissing hands, feet, cheeks, ears, belly etc. Aren’t babies’ bellies fabulous? Isn’t their skin soft and delicious? Aren’t they just good enough to eat?

I'm full up of goodness thanks to this little family... full up to the brim; inspired, determined to operate, as Lilley would say, on a higher vibration. Let's do it!

Great meeting with JP. Gooooood stuff. Work from Canada, too, and an exchange of surprising ease, satisfaction and excitement with a stranger, who is offering me just the kind of work I love to do, at a price that seems fair to both of us. It's of service to him and of service to me. It already feels like such fun. Thank you for such unexpected gifts.

I got stung by a bee. I'm delighted! For years, I've been quietly frightened of being stung. So many family members are allergic to them and I react quite extremely to midge bites, so I've been carrying anti-histamines around for years, just in case. I don't think I've ever been stung by a bee before. Wasps, yes, twice only, once aged about five and once a few years later. 

Today, I reached into the outside pocket of my backpack for a rubber owl keyring and experienced a warm, sharp sensation on the middle joint of my middle finger. It hurt, but not in the terrible way my childhood mind remembered it. I instinctively sucked it and saw, with sorriness, a bee bum and sting. I'm sorry, bee, to end your life that way. Neither of us meant each other any harm. Thanks for sacrificing yourself (intentionally or otherwise) so that I'd find out that bee stings hurt a bit but not a lot, that I don't swell up, stop breathing or go into anaphylactic shock. No need to worry. I'm now quietly pleased.

Loved my chat with beautiful, mermaid-like creature, Mirjam. She's a pleasure, she is. We laughed a lot, looking at each other's pixellated images. I 'met' her cat (a black shape with eyes). We talked, made plans, agreed things. Looking forward to the next instalment. 

I also loved my dinner. I did a recce on a yoga centre nearby. I plan to go there when we're here again. I planned to go tonight, but this evening is the only day that the Ashtanga class I had my eye on isn't happening. Later, I had my date with Mirjam, so the later time wouldn't have done. 

Day 483: Go The Fuck To Sleep

Chlorine eyes (honestly, that's what I searched)

A late one making Spanish words into English ones, followed by an early start doing the same. Yes, I was tired, yes, it was intense, but god, yes, I enjoyed it. How good is that? If you're going to redo a job, may it be one you enjoyed a lot in the first place and enjoyed almost even more the second time around. I loved it.

So much choice

My night was late anyway. I was in a room opposite the back door to the bar on this floor of the hotel. It was clinky and noisy until just before midnight. It clinked and chinked again just after 6am. In the meantime, one of the bar's occupants, I suspect, came back to his room, switched on the telly at 'Loud'. 

At about 1.30, when I was ready to go to sleep, I went onto my balcony and saw that he was fast asleep on his bed, in his clothes, with the window open. The temptation to creep in and whisper into his ear ('turn off the telly') was huge, but I think my own first reaction to being woken up like that would have been an instinctive punch and kick or two, so I settled for knocking on his door and asking him nicely. He was sleepy-eyed and apologetic. Quite sweet, really. I didn't tell him I'd been spying.

Underwater dreams?  

I was hoping for richer dreams, having chatted to lovely, tasty, dream-filled Emily 'My Head Calls Out to be Cupped/Cuphead' Wilkinson, but if any were forthcoming - as no doubt they were - they have gone from my memory. We shall see what tonight has to offer.

Headless filled swimming cap. Odd.

I asked to have my room changed, and the hotel acquiesced without argument. I had changed rooms before breakfast, at about quarter to seven in the morning. The day was spent with funny people. I watched lovely actors do their thing. Some of them are really delightful to watch. I've lucked out with mine - a very nice man called Jonathan, with whom I have worked once before. He's very good, as well. Very good. I always miss Jerry on a job like this, because he made me laugh so much, but am very happy to be working with Jonathan. 

Great tiger, great voice.                         

I done a yoga, which I'm pleased about, and a swim. I'm a wuss without a swimming cap. Goggles are a preference, but not a necessity. Not having my hair cover my mouth when I'm doing front crawl is DEFINITELY a necessity. It shuts my mouth like a door. It's really annoying. I did back crawl and careful-lady-driver breaststroke. I got bored of it quite fast, but I shall treat myself to a fully capped trip to a proper big pool, where I shall swim like a salmon up a river, or perhaps like a ploddy laner. Either way, I'll enjoy it. 



Now my awake/asleep ratio over the last 40 hours or so is ridiculous, so I shall succomb to Going The Fuck to Sleep (there's a children's book for adults called that, voiced by Samuel L Jackson, which I'd forgotten until this moment. 

Day 482: Six Fat Peaches

x 6

Rushing around doing Spanish, but just quickly...

Six fat peaches. SIX! And every one of them resisted to the teeth, but then gave gracefully, releasing its juice, leaving a damp stone, raggedy with strands of flesh. Not from the supermarket, see, because of the project I started on Sunday, 100 Days of Freedom from Chains, which involves spending time and money only in establishments there's only one of. The peaches were a win. I don't think I've had a good peach in this country for years and years. Nectarines fare a little bit better, but most of the good ones have been in posh hotels or the KPMG building (which is very like a posh hotel).

Dogs in tights!

A surprisingly easy and friendly array of men on the train up to Birmingham. Just doing gentle chit-chat, with me and each other, but nice. Another excellent coaching call. Oh, and in an attempt to cheer up a friend, I found this ridiculous picture of dogs in tights. Don't know if it worked for her, but it certainly worked for me. Now I REALLY want a dog (and I'd even consider one with long hair, if this is what you can do without even shaving it!). 

Try kicking these trousers. They'll win.

Right, that's it. I really do have to go and kick this translation in the trousers (new phrase from just now. Thanks, Faber & Faber).

Day 481: Bees and Birds and Butterflies

Yesterday's dancing in the woods was mildly disappointing - lots of earnest flannel in a circle and not enough getting on with it or pumping beats for my liking - but there were some absolute gifts: sunlight streaming through beech leaves far above my head, doing its own dance; standing surrounded by flowering mint and bees and butterflies so close I could count the patches on their coloured wings; crows cawing harsh and loud and real, blotting out the recorded birdsong tinning through the headphones. I love a shouty bird, I do. Not like that.

I scared myself. That's always good. It was in an old chalk quarry filled with beech trees, steep at the sides and filled with slightly reeky badger holes. I climbed a tree and sat in it. From that angle, it seemed a very long way down. I did the ungainliest getting down from a tree that has ever been done without actually falling - all limbs and awkwardness - but I did get down and I didn't squeal or cry. The trip up to the minty butterfly land was  very steep and getting down from it was scary too. Scary, but not dangerous (unlike the people who walked along the top of a chalk cliff - fuck, that's REALLY unsafe). 

Slightly irritable as I was, I was surprised and delighted to discover the juiciness of the two people I travelled back with. I was glad the train didn't come for 45 minutes, because we really got to chat. If I'd followed my starting instinct, I'd have travelled home alone and spoken sparsely at most, only to strangers. This way was better. The man was very interesting and the woman was an Esalen-trained massage therapist. Yes. Please. I wonder if she'll do swapsies.

Thank you for warming soup, Dilly DeVille. Thank you for a smooth start to my Freedom from Chains experiment. Thank you for work cancelled at short notice and pay remaining unaffected. Very much appreciated. Can't tell you how much. Thank you for opportunities disguised as problems (I translated the wrong document and have to do it again for no pay - well, it suits me better to say that the previous one was a retrospectively voluntary practice run and this one, the real thing, is paid). Better get on with that, then.


The light right now is gorgeous. It's yellowy warm and bright, picking out the white backs of leaves and lighting up fields against the setting of a water-filled sky, ready to burst. We're whizzing through it. 

Day 480: Bumfrang

Aaah, yesterday, I remembered the thing that had given me such pleasure in Snoopers' Paradise last week. It was the phrase 'How do you like them apples?'. It was written beautifully on a card next to some apple-shaped earrings. The last time I heard that phrase used (and the first) was when I was working on the Indiana Jones DVD game for Hasbro (so in 2005, most likely). We took the board game bit in to play with the developers at The Pavement. The main guy was quietly, boldly, strangely very attractive (also very married, so it was only observational). We played the game. He won, and as he slammed his mover onto the final space, he cried 'How do you like THEM apples?' with such unreserved glee and self-satisfaction that even though I had no idea what he was talking about, it was a deeply pleasing experience. 

It made me remember one of the things I loved about that job - that its purpose (for me) was, fundamentally, to create moments like that in as many lives as possible. I'm so glad to have got out while that was still mostly true. Whether it's subjectively true for some people, still, if I was still there, it wouldn't be for me.

Bumfrang!

Speaking of such pleasing things, how do you like today's new word: bumfrang. I don't know what that means, either. I saw it on lovely Gaba's cafe facebook site. I think it's a film or a book or something. Bumfrang3.* A sequel? Hmmm. Obviously, it's mostly funny because it's got the word 'bum' in it. That's a given. 'Frang' is nice too, though. I like its fat, bung ng - an e would spoil it entirely and make it a little bit try-hard. The number is a tantalising mystery. I can ask Gaba what it means, or I can enjoy my own ignorance, allowing me simply to revel in the shape of the word in my mouth and the vague textures it conjures (definitely rubbery, definitely rounded). 

And this apple? I think I like it.

Loving my pants. I have replaced some of my tired (but beloved) underwear with new. The pleasure of wearing a fresh, beautifully-fitting bra and matching knickers is immense. One of the simplest gifts, for nobody but me (and you, of course, now I've decided to share it, but still indirectly - the direct pleasure of it is mine alone). The fabric is soft.  The colours too. I feel lucky (not in a 'get lucky' way - mostly, when I feel lucky in that way, I'm very wrong about it. It's a less fathomable science, to me). Lucky to be able to and not to have to take such things for granted. If you can glean contentment from a pair of pants and a lacy bra, I say go for it. 

Errmm. I seem to have a bike habit. I feel so limited without one, even for a few days. This one is the opposite of the last. It has lots of gears and rides really well. It's a boybike, though, and the stem is a little too long, the handlebars a little too pushed forward. Not a good riding position long term - hard on the upper back and not great on the lower. Options are to change the handlebars (might give that a go tomorrow, get an upright set - ooh, a man told me what they were called today. North something). Or ride it short term, take it inside when I go away and put it back on gumtree in a month or two and pick up something else later. 

Maskfest today. Dave and I have made a full mask each, from clay base building to a first layer of papier mache and a cloth layer too. I've also added to three half masks and made another building cast (of Dave's face - facial hair definitely makes things more complicated, but the cast is good). They look great. There are stages, when you're making a mask, when you despair at how impossibly long it takes. It does, but all of it is satisfying and creative and therapeutic and just really good fun, so even when it gets tedious (it's good to stop when you wish you could carry on... committing to another layer is ace too. Can make it harder to start up again, though, as the very last memory was a kind of overtired space cadet state). I currently have 16 faces in this room, in different states of readiness, not including my own.

And now, I'm holding out. The telly is being used, so I can't watch the final episode of Top of the Lake. I need to see how soon I can watch it on iPlayer. As soon as I can, I will officially Get The Fuck In. Nice. 


* I found out that it's a band. I don't want to know what the word means. It doesn't matter what it is... to me, it's just Bumfrang.

Day 479: Top of the...

Top of the Lake. Fuck! Thank you, Jane Campion. Thank you, Rob Grundel. Thank you, Friday.

Day 478: Cat Pepper

A lie-in full of dreams. I one of them, I was a prostitute. In another, I was in love. I love dreams, whatever they are, even when they leave me with spooked-horse eyes, with a beating heart and afraid of the dark. These did neither. 

I continued the mask-building this morning, with unsieved flour, hot water and PVA, dishcloths and faith. I've never made them like that before. I've left them to dry. We'll see what becomes of them. I like the faces they're on. I'm remembering things about how to make them. It's been a while. I'm aching to do another full mask. I like them. I like doing the lips. 

Fabulous meeting with Rob on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral and Kate at Baker Street. St. Pau'ls will lead to Iceland. Baker Street led to Regent's Park, but not before I stumbled across a big, empty oil drum just as I was telling Kate we needed to go skip-scavenging to find something for Ruth to make into a musical instrument. I'm not sure how many litres it held. A lot. Like, 30 or something. Empty, but cumbersome, it came around Regent's Park with us. 

When we arrived, the matinee of The Sound of Music live show was just finishing. We listened until a particularly pleasing bit of trumpet-
trumpetting, then moved on. We did good talking, then walked to Euston, where I took the tube and the bus, drum in hand, to Muswell Hill. Lovely dinner and chat and laughter with Ruth. Our trip to the supermarket to buy wine for her exhibition was made sweeter by a lady on the checkout with a beautiful face and a willingness to have a laugh. 

I googled 'cat pepper', so this is entirely justified.

The slightly-too-bitey dog (Staff? Pitbull?) with its slightly too forward owner were nevertheless entertaining outside. I went back for pepper, to stop cats pooing on Ruth's vegetables. We peppered some soil. It was disproportionately satisfying. 

Now I have extra PVA, a cast of my own face, a dust sheet and a purpose. Tomorrow, I welcome you.

Day 477: Fok Julie Naaiers

A lady came and bought my bike this morning. I'm very pleased about than and I think she is too. She had a good ride around to test it out. It was funny. She rode to meet me on a shitty old bike and I immediately handed her mine and said 'have a go'. Off she rode. Seriously, she could have just kept going. I'd have had a job selling her old bike on. She came back and offered to pay me more than what I was asking. Perhaps I should have said yes, but by suggesting the price I remembered putting it on for (whether or not my memory was correct), we both felt like we got a good deal. I really hope she enjoys it. 

I had a job this morning that I wasn't sure about wanting to do. I did it and I really enjoyed it. Talking to retailers. They were all forthcoming today and talky. Some of them were funny. All of them seemed to enjoy the experience of having a chat. 

My room is full of faces again... half done ones, more than half done ones... all sorts. I think I'll do some more in the morning, to cover the clay. The two new ones have very pleasing noses. I want to buy more ModRoc and plaster. I want to make more casts. I could bring one, acutally. I think I have two. Maybe we can get away with it. I have at least one person coming to make masks with me on Saturday, possibly more later. I'm excited.

Great coaching call, even though didn't start well. She got the time wrong (though she was early rather than late). Last time I had a coach, I had so many free sessions because she'd forgotten or mistimed calls, I got much more than my money's worth. However, it did start to undermine the relationship. Whatever words you're saying, if you can't retain when we're going to speak to each other (repeatedly), the message that comes across from that is stronger than 'sorry' and 'you are important to me', even if those words are genuine. This time, despite my belly-dread of this pattern repeating, it made much more sense. She was early because she was being extra careful about it, she was gracious and clear on the call and the call ROCKED. She's very good. I'd recommend her to anyone. 

This evening, torn between dancing and rapping, I chose rapping (and socialising). We didn't actually rap, but Dave done a talk and that was ace. It was nice to socialise too. I miss that sometimes down here. The dancing is good, and strangely solitary. This was a much sharier event, interesting, funny and satisfying. Pleased with my choice. I rapped all the way there, anyway, in my head or under my breath. It makes me smile. It makes others smile (at me, I suspect, rather than with me). Either way.

Today, mostly on my mind are the failings of memory and sliding doors (just the concept, for the latter, not its failure). Oh, and 100 days of Freedom from Chains. It starts on Sunday. Better get my shit on. I want to get that started and see what comes of it. Today, I've learnt that it's been done before. The failings of memory is for another day. Sliding doors two. There might be a conspiring to make that happen or not happen, depending on what I remember to do and when. Very weaverly. Very apt. 

Day 476: Barbie Arms

Finger food

This made me cry. It's not sad. At all. This woman is just so GOOD at what she does, and that thing is singing. Singing often makes me cry a bit, but always happy crying or moved crying. No woe.

Every now and then...

Today was kind of eventful. I finished and sent my first Spanish translation, which I'm quite pleased with and I got another piece of work in from the same lady. Grateful for that and for work from one person and pay from another. My appreciation for both these events never falters. I've had times where I haven't made work work and work hasn't come in. I feel blessed when it does, and when people are happy with it and pay me. 

Tasty cake plate full of doll arms

So I worked, firstly in the Emporium, where the people working there were chatty and human and nice, and the fridge was a shouty motherfucker. It ended up being pleasing. I bought my lunch from a very cheap place, from a very Spanish lady (I've decided a Spanish boyfriend would be a Very Good Idea - know of any?*). Then I went to the Costa down Bond Street to plug in and top up my laptop. Done my business cards. Lost my business cards. Second time. I shall do better ones when I finally do get the buggers to work.

No words

Then to the library, but not before finally replacing my watch, for £9, with a bracelet watch AND a wind-up, old-fashioned nurse's watch (upside down, on a pin). I thought of my lovely friend Sarah Lonton, who would love Snooper's Paradise, where I got it. I photographed severed doll arms, heads and legs. I managed to avoid buying anything else. That reminds me, though. I saw a tiara made of Barbie arms at Secret Garden Party. Now there's a tiara I'd wear.

Teacup fingers

Something delighted me and made me laugh this afternoon. It was something I'd forgotten years ago, and saw again. All I remember is the warmth and sparkle of the recognition of a love of something from before. What it was escapes me as much as my reason for going into the hardware shop did earlier today. Gone. I walked in. I walked around. I walked out. It didn't come back till ages later, when I wrote it on my hand. I trust the delightful thing will come back. If not, tant pis. I enjoyed it in the moment.

My next internet dating profile pic.
Do Spaniards go for that?

Ace coffee stop with Dave. We chewed on the world. I felt informed, inspired and interested. I drank decaf (thanks to Jochen). Oh, there's no way I can do my weekend justice, but it must be mentioned. The deep joy and ease of an old friend. I loved my day with Jochen, then my evening and next day with Jochen and Geir. 

There were beaches, decaf coffees of all kinds, bike rides, French food on a sliding scale of goodness (from so good it actually hurt on Sunday night to 'move away from the canned goods' on Monday morning). There was cake that was definitely on Sunday night's level. A windmill was involved and some dramatic skies. Lots of laughter, some stone-throwing into a polystyrene cup, a Skype with Hollenbubbla and some repeated shoulder-flicking, in which I was no more than a puppet-master. It was FANTASTIC. There was also good news. 

Tonight, the sky was fat and heavy with rain, all dark and promisey. I love it when it's like that. I vow to live in a monsoon land at some point. Rain on me. I love it.  Rain on me some more. Let the drops be fat and fulsome and the sky be overtaken by it. Drizzle is a travesty unless you're in an actual cloud... then it's quite nice. Quite nice doesn't touch a proper, thorough raining-on, though. Doesn't touch the sides.

Not waving, but...

I cooked and ate a dhal the mere memory of which makes me quiver in anticipation of the next time I get to eat some of it again. Then I got down to mask-making with smooth, moist, red clay and a brain full of new techniques. Good chat with Rob. Bath. Time to sleep like it was my job. Let's DO this shit. 

* Not at any cost... a nice person, clever, exciting, grounded in himself, playful, hot-as-all-shit(to-me-anyway) etc... Spanish is a bonus.

Day 475: Goodbye

(Sat 10th August)

Upped and 'on the mat' by six. In the hall, with a surprising number of others. It was touch and go for a moment, as I felt how tired I was and only just decided to go. I left today, so my rationale was that it was my last chance and I’d sleep in tomorrow. Pranayama. Some of it was a bit full on, but it was very good and I’m impressed by the taste I got for it. They were thorough. And I stayed awake in the meditation and the satsang. I loved the satsang. Very simple and very pleasing. Aaahhhh.

laters, lovelies

I enjoyed having a tiny bit of time with Bärbel, the beautiful, slight, acrobatic organiser (and gifted teacher) of the workshop. She’s a good, straightfoward and honest egg, that one. I like her. Grateful that I got my train (there were only minutes in it – thank you, computer room, and lady who let me push in, and good looking at details on my part, all of which helped us buy the right ticket and print it out just in the nick of time). Thankful for my double-accompaniment - Bärbel and Fabio. About a minute and a half to spare when we got to the train. Yup. That close. (Oh, and Fabio's in London from Friday 16th, for a week. Would anyone be kind enough to host him?)

I shall remember them mostly like this

A very warm goodbye from everyone. I will miss übermama Daniela, wonderfully warm Luciana, the Slovak lovelies Gaba and Katka, mischievous, both of them, in different ways, playful and funny, Fabio (so skillful, so nice), Martin (man-child meets man-mountain), sweetest, cleva Petra, lovely Sam, funny Simon, hilarious Florencia and her face, fabulous Günther and his most excellent demeanour and ridiculously good face, earnest, movey, committed Ferenc, intellectual and fine-faced Stanko (not fine as in delicate, rather mask-like, but fine as in brilliant), the fountain of richness that is Cécile, doll-like and pleasing Mary and her mysterious and charming husband Andrea, super-real Valeria, full of volume and passion and above all the group in itself… such a fabulous creature in itself, that group. Everyone ready to play, play, play. Very glad indeed that I went and I look forward to some of these people featuring bigly in my life. I want to work with many of them. Ooooh… so much to do. Europe is calling, or further still.

I loved how much my Italian (which I don’t speak) has improved, even just over this week. I’m understanding so much more and even daring to say a few words (though most of them come out Spanish). Gaba taught me to say ‘Gde jest peňaženka? Tu jest peňaženka!’* and it gave us both such glee. There was swierska (I think) too. Candle. We lost that and found it a few times over the evening.

Softest landing EVER on my flight. I was very impressed. I was also delighted at the sight of planes taking off over a huge, skinny sliver of a crescent moon as I walked through Heathrow. It’s half past midnight. I’ve been travelling for 11 hours. Now I’m back. Jochen in the morning. Bring it on!