january.... the race is on

How I felt about "THE" election (two years nearly gone). And How I "felt" about the war " and HOW" i felt. These were being laughter; being childish; being intelligent; being curious. I was a long way from da Vinci; my notes had a tepid air to them, and yet we were all connecting.... this to that; skype to Protocol, paste post. Over? etc.... The year's begun well. I lie awake with a cold coffee (can't be bothered to get out of bed and heat it up). And Her, Mrs Iddleswicke, fromaging cheese into the pot blender for brekkie. The News had the Queen in Cornwall, and Gordie in a sandwich shop outside of Ilfracombe. Were you in San Francisco during that quake? She asks more to get me talking. Ah.... the houses I painted in San Francisco, i reply: you know I worked for Jim; his Earthquake Emergency company.... i wished all houses could be painted a la sa fran. It was a cold one bed rental. Cornwall was tepid, quiet and moody. We'd taken a ramble across Exmoor the week before. Did you see Wales? She laughed. There are whales around here somewhere; somewhere off the coast of Scotland. Good. Do rub my back. Please. Thankyou. Settled into a B£ @ x Pence per minute for a pot of tea and a small bin liner before heading onto Bodmin...