we live on a vast canvas: in my head I'm a scientist turned spy sailing the world on a yacht or tracking down stolen solar technology on the space station, a scholar turned sword riding distant lands. Dozens of alternate lives, alternate views, other chances. It can seem a little cramped to come back inside this physical life in a London district with tiny gardens and suburban trains. And it's a shock to do it so suddenly as the doorbell waking me from a dream so real I feel guilty for the damage I've done to people by defending myself when they attacked; when I took one to the hospital she turned out to be an artists and in the dream-compressed time since the attack had drawn page after page of fantastic detailed colourscapes in van Gogh purple and yellow.
aaaah - coffee!
words learned for reasons other than their intrinsic meaning: intense upper class accent discussing why the state would be the loser in a split between church and state. Ah, I said with a chuckle of glee: so that's antidisestablishmentarianism - never seen it in public before.
This was followed by a gleeful laugh as I chalked up another favourite cliché; Officium (Jan Garbarek & the Hilliard Ensemble) might be the finest album ever recorded and is probably the one piece of music I wouldn't want to live without, so I never mind hearing it. But I suspect that Radio 4 (for it was she) has got a bulk discount on the copyright because whenever there's a piece about any period of history from the Crusades to the Victorians that has even a sniff of the church in it, there it is plain(chaunt)ive in the background...