In the morning a Speed Awareness course for my heedless sins.
I woke at 3.30, rose and peered through the blinds. The rain was teeming down, accompanied by a stillness and a silence. The silence was disquieting and foreboding. Preposterous perhaps, fanciful even, but hyperreal to me: I felt a malign presence.
Yesterday I spent two hours looking for a photograph of me with the aforementioned Princess. Couldn’t find it. That’s two hours I’ll never get back. Could have watched two and a bit Houses of Cards or run a marathon.
I did find this though. Favourite picture from my childhood.
But you’re here now, so I may as well tell the Princess Anne story.
*gets comfortable in Ronnie Corbett chair, adjusts glasses…*
I am silly. A very silly boy. I’ve waited far too long to write up my recent trip to Llanrhaeadr-ym-Mochnant (trans:village of the pigs over the bridge near the river in the valley or some such). Oh well. Any lapses in memory I will endeavour to plug with colourless fabricated anecdotes.