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I stopped writing dovegreyreader for a reason but I didn’t stop writing. I needed to explore a few things, do some ‘research’, unlearn and re-learn. Write things down for me. I’ve filled three notebooks (Leuchtturm 1917 dotted) Sitting down each day, reading, walking, thinking, sitting at my tiny desk in the bedroom window. Something comes to mind and I’ll go there. Yesterday history of polio(fascinating), one day last week ley lines (who knew). Honestly, I might not be able to travel without the right papers (is this really 1930s Germany we’re living in? You know, that time we look back on and wonder how they could possibly have let it happen?) but you wouldn’t believe the places I’ve been. With thanks to Joan Didion and Slouching Towards Bethlehem, and Roger Scruton’s England an Elegy, and Confessions of a Heretic, and countless others for being alongside, and so many more waiting in the wings.
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Remembering a dark October day wandering around Pere Lachaise in Paris, 1998ish, in search of Jim Morrison’s grave. It wasn’t hard to find... graffiti everywhere saying’Jim this way’. I seem to have stumbled across Riders on the Storm quite a lot lately. Jim still works the magic but who knew what really went on. I’ve discovered snippets but it’s time to go the full Laurel Canyon.
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Good morning Mr ‘Chips’. I think we’re going to be keeping each other company for a few months (950 pages).
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‘We are handed a series of masks, as we progress through life, and at each stage, we are encouraged to perceive these as Real.’ Joanna Kavanna’s essay on reality in this brilliant collection Alchemy from @nottinghilleditions ‘In order for there to be Things as they Actually Are, one assumes there must be Things as they Actually are Not, or at least, Things that do not quite qualify as Actual, and exist in a shady hinterland of the not-quite-real Real.’ Stretching my mind to its most elastic of extremes, and grateful for the time and space to do so. Now.
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I had the pleasure of meeting The Gentle Author of Spitalfields Life fame back in the day when @cathystgermans very kindly invited me to set up the dovegreyreader tent at Port Eliot Festival. All the books are currently half price on the Spitalfields Life website (using the discount code VALENTINE) and I couldn’t resist East End Vernacular. In the absence of visits to art exhibitions a book like this is the next best thing. I was lucky enough to do a year of my nurse training at the London, and live in Whitechapel (though it was a bit different in the 1970s to now) and of course I married a true cockney, born within the sound of Bow Bells, who I met there. It’s a real treat to travel back and remember those days through a book of wonderful words and paintings.
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Just arrived.I’ve had this on pre-order. Back to seeing my world as a nine-year-old through my grown-up eyes. Frost quake - The frozen winter of 1962 and how Britain emerged a different country by Juliet Nicholson. And with a background nod to my four point Hudson Bay blanket, a best friend through any long chilly winter.
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Listen up, our barn owl is asking for a friend...
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Sitting at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and Slouching Towards Bethlehem yet again with Joan Didion. I’ve read it so many times I almost know chunks of it by heart. Now seems like a good time to walk along with Joan awhile.
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Hand quilting in the slow lane. Time to get this finished.