Coffee is bad for you, but good for me. Alcohol is bad for you, but good for me. Exercise is good for you, but bad for me. Seasons turn, life exists, existence is. Bah. The dog is dirty and needs a bath. Truncated. Iconic. Tonight I needed to read Eliot and Musset. A bit of a contrast. And a friend reminded me of the chintzy chintzy cheeriness that Johnny described. The cat sat on my lap, purring, purring, purring, purring, oh lord thou pluckest me out. Tomorrow I shall be in County Durham once again. Not sure where I'm supposed to be going, so I'll set off and hope that somebody tells me the address somehow. Our new systems are so efficient. Darlings, I'm rereading Damals war es Friedrich. Yes, I know it's a kids' book, but it's interesting. I liked it when I read it in translation, and now I'm ready to read it in German, so that's good. And the Queen is right: the sentences are short and uncomplicated. It's an easy read. The fud goes not at this moment. Too much to-ing and fro-ing with the old dear. Too much. I have baked. Forgive me father, for I have baked. What have you baked my child? I have baked Christmas cakes (three), cider crumble cakes (two), fruit tarts (five) and I've made the Christmas puddings (three). I've made the mincemeat too. What is my penance? Three lots of washing-up and a full freezer to sort out. Damn. Another penance for the damn. The damned. Okay, enough. Where are they? In the attic? Dry thoughts in a wet season. Wet, wild, windy winter weather. Autumn has gone for the moment. Musset. Nuit d'octobre. Nuit de mai. Me gusta Musset, but I'm not sure why. Ce livre est toute ma jeunesse. Maybe that's why. And tomorrow we dance.