Sunday, November 11, 2007


In a determined effort to be upbeat I have scarfed DLPA and l-tyrosine, a teapot of of my best jasmine tea and home-made biscuit, watched the reflections from the water dance on the ceiling, killed an annoying bluebottle and rubbed scent from a magazine on my wrist, rather nice, Prada's infusion d'iris, smells like old, good leather to me, undertones of frankincense.

Highlight of the day though was Rodeo Beach where we watched the oil mop-up - several chaps with spades, watched by a lot more - or so it seemed, I am probably uncharitable. It was closed but there were plenty of hikers and cyclists milling around on the headlands, plenty of gallows humour. The beach looked clear enough, but the rocks were crusted with oil. Bloody tanker.

I recommend Social Crimes, Jane Stanton Hitchcock.


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