doubly precious (sevenfold dear)

'alas, how soon the time will come when I must go away and leave it all and when I shall see no more the beloved scenes which have been so familiar to me for so many years. in the prospect of their loss how doubly precious, how sevenfold dear they have become...'

- francis kilvert, on this day 1872. 

he meets a fox-hunting man from painscastle and officiates at a funeral. 

horsemouth has been gardening. he's put in some more compost and planted a load of beetroot seeds in one of the raised beds (hopefully they will come up). he thinks he will put peas in the others (his mum is not so keen, she thinks they are a lot of work for not much food). down in the old garden some nasturtiums he had planted have come up (he's just been down to water them and give them some encouragement). 

in the greenhouse he has filled up the pots for the tomatoes etc. with fertiliser and compost ready for the tomato plants (when they come). 

yesterday he was up the hill to deliver the eggs to martin and sylvia (about two and a half miles all told). the jack-in-the-hedge grows well. 

'deleuze was right that written language came first, before scraps of language were incorporated into vocal utterance.'  - from the april page of the triple negative calendar 2026. 

this also makes reference to a sociologist called scott hamilton who horsemouth thinks is this person here. he tells an interesting tale of angus maclise's suitcase. 

in the evening horsemouth watched a youtube vid on the radical group aufheben, he then downloaded the aufheben article on decadence - one of the theses of the international communist current, that ever since 1914 capitalism has not been progressive but a break on the development of the productive forces and thus humanities march towards liberation from necessity. (horsemouth does hope he's got that right). 

later as he retired to bed he could not find his copy of all the names so he started on william morris's the well at the world's end (and in particular lin carter's excellent introductory essay). 

in the night it has rained. the weather is taking a colder, greyer turn. the chickens seem happy enough. 

all important matters should be communicated to the chickens (and to any bees likewise)

horsemouth is back in the wild already

cold overnight, sunday and monday night - best keep the runner beans in the greenhouse a while longer.  everything has survived but not much else has come up. ok horsemouth tells a lie the broad beans are showing signs of activity (he hopes they survive). 

horsemouth has been out to feed the chickens and unleash them for the day. he told them he was back (all important matters should be communicated to the chickens and to any bees likewise). 

the next stage is to plant up the raised beds (now that there are more of them) - peas, carrots, beetroot suggests horsemouth.

so he's back from the wen (with a new cough and cold naturally).  he will reflect on some of the events from his visit as they occur to him. 

wednesdaythursday (time to say goodbye again)

so horsemouth has been in the city (the wen) since the evening of monday 30th of march but now it's time to say goodbye (again). 

yesterday a white cat in the back garden. 

he didn't do much visiting art galleries this time (ok he tells a lie, as he typed this he had a plan to visit one but it didn't come to fruition). he spent his time visiting people and visiting tube stations and railway stations and vast infrastructure projects (old oak common).

he saw his brother, his sister in law, dave and claudia, andrew minty, paul clark and toni, colin, TG, peter, howard,  enza and michaelangelo, suke, mattin and whomsoever he saw at the triple negative gig -  anthony, demetra, matthew and anya, denis, john and sarah, TG (again)... 

(more people will be added as horsemouth's memory and linguistic abilities are returned to him). 

it's the morning. horsemouth doesn't feel too bad on it all things considered. 

all that now remains is to get to the railway station and get back to his mum's. this all depends on whether the station works at milton keynes have completed or whether they have over run. (don't let horsemouth overthink it).  

tuesdaywednesday

tuesday

10:12 the bench

so horsemouth was early. but then again so were TG and mattin. but mattin was busy, and so TG and horsemouth crossed the canal and advanced into the green. horsemouth's initial plan had been to get TG to ferry him up towards walthamstow (and then abandon him to the return journey), then he proposed tea in leyton, but neither met with approval. 

they ended up doing was going to their usual haunts in the olympic park. 

topics of conversation. freud totem and taboo vs. agamben homo sacer. (horsemouth could remember next to nothing of how the argument worked). improv - eddie prevost interviewed versus derek bailey. 

the village

later, after their coffee (two girls with violins and baggage go slowly past).  a slow wander round the bit of the park they usually cut out (including the dead end). down to the canal. back along to the canal and to TGs for lunch in the back garden. 

back at TGs

at TGs a brief listen to 25 gun salute by gunshot (possibly their last truly great tune thinks horsemouth). 

and the sun shone and all was beautiful and joyous (though horsemouth was avoiding the bit where the people were). 

lea bridge station

horsemouth crossed the canal again and made off in the direction of walthamstow. when he hit the lea bridge road he bottled out and decided to use lea bridge station (for the first time he thinks in the nearly 10 years it has been open) returning via tottenham hale (also possibly for the first time ever he thinks) walthamstow central etc.

and here (4pm) he is (having left home round about 9am). 

later a snooze. 

today an afternoon wander with enza (that should tire him out).  but first remind him to put the washing out. 

meanwhile the US bullies its way round the world and the astronauts circle round the moon. 

monday tuesday

what did monday look like for horsemouth?

well the morning he just farted about until 11 and then he was off to see enza. he just made the earlier train and so got there a little early he hung around outside the hospital. a tibetan lama walked past (with an entourage of two) and he wandered back. 

earlier there had been a little girl with a plastic trumpet on the train 'hello ello ello ello'  she kept saying, 'you can blow the trumpet as loud as you want when you get off the train' said her mum. 

later (after lunch) himself and enza and michelangelo were up the park where they bumped into suke. the masses were out (partying like it was summer). rollerblading, skateboarding, cycling. running, sunbathing, walking their dogs, stopping off for a pint, pushing babies in prams. 

eventually horsemouth returned via the train. and the sun shone. and still the people partied like it was summer already. 

what will tuesday look like for horsemouth?

well he has nothing booked. (ok he tells a lie, he has something booked for the morning). 

the weather will be getting progressively better each day. 

how is he to interpret the heron in the back garden?

he bought/ sought more books this visit - perhaps his collecting aversion is over and he is back into the sunny uplands of building a library. he's even reading at a decent pace (helped by lots of tube journeys admittedly). 

he's up. his brother is back. last night pizza and a half-glass of beer. 

old oak common

 yesterday in the morning

horsemouth got the overground over to willesden junction. his main reason in going there was to witness the constructions of the HS2 facilities at old oak common. 

after a brief mooch round the station he headed off down old oak lane (with a diversion round stephenson street) and the acton railwaymen's houses and onto loverose way before continuing round old oak common lane into the dead end triangle of wells house road.

escaping that he carried on to the bus stop on brunel road where he chickened out and got a 7 (eventually returning through ladbroke grove). the labyrinth of streets had defeated him (he did not make it to the city on the hill with its skyscrapers and so forth). 

strangely as a walk this is not very impressive. it being a bit above a mile. 

================

yesterday in the afternoon/evening. 

food at dave's (claudia was away) and a walk down to leytonstone (across the hollow ponds) to the pub (horsemouth got out at a pint and a half) and then back again with the daylight slowly fading (then horsemouth walked back up to highams park).  

on his way back he found italo svevo's a life in a bookbox, which is not, as he first thought, an autobiography, but a novel about a very fernando pessoa type character. 

on their way to the pub they saw the screaming lady from leytonstone tube (she was only making some noises not full blooded howling). 

you see this is getting on for about 5 miles yet because horsemouth knew where he was going(ish) it didn't feel that far. 

today

well a visit. probably an hour each way walk. 

the screaming lady of leytonstone tube

a long walk around with H.A. (off into the forest)

the meet? 10am chingford railway station.

the plan? some turkish food and then off into the forest.

the result? a cafe breakfast (egg, beans, mushrooms, tomato, chips, tea, 2 toast) and then off into the forest. (the turkish place now doesn't open til 12)

off into the forest

our starter hike? 3 miles to high beech. (there a pint of greene king IPA each - initially disliked but we drank on regardless).

horsemouth gave howard (sorry H.A.) his copy of at the edge of the world by john berger and jean mohr. 

this was followed by 2 miles to loughton tube (with a stop off at a pub in loughton for a pint - sorry horsemouth had forgotten the name - ah. the plume of feathers). 

horsemouth got the tube from loughton to leytonstone. howard was off to stratford in search of a bus. 

at leytonstone the screaming lady of leytonstone tube who has upped the begging anti to screaming with despair the whole time. 

horsemouth then got the bus (W16) to highams park (for much of the journey he was convinced he was on the wrong bus such was the winding nature of the route).  

in the early morning hours a dream about selling his clothing somewhere in dalston (there he was in the shop dressed only in his underwear). today he's unsure what he is doing. he needs to get some replacement coffee.   

but he has his cup of coffee and he has started reading all the names by jose saramago. so far the set up with the giant office of births and deaths (where they have to keep extending out the back wall to keep up with the newly dead). horsemouth's copy is a harvill edition. on the front cover there is someone with tape over their mouth with mor-peg written on it (the cover art for this, as for many harvill books, is by paula piglia).