they are dead before they know it

horsemouth has finished the mill on the floss. life has kicked them hard (and everything they do seems to dig them in deeper) but then the town floods. water flows under the door, the current drives the boat away and the other characters out of sight. in a matter of a few pages they are dead. they are dead before they know it.
yesterday horsemouth went for a womble - up towards the greenway (as much of it as is open) and round back down hermit road and hermit road park and its mural dedicated to
daisy parsons suffragette and first female mayor of newham.

he plans a wander round with john later on today but first a spot of babysitting.

horsemouth struggled in the night to remember some of his dreams - but they have gone.

before he slept he read a little of george eliot’s journalism for the westminster review - the pieces are too short to allow her to stretch out, they are stuffed with quotes but under-developed, they have very decided (but not altogether successful) pay-off lines. fiction really is her thing. there are excerpts from her translations of feuerbach and david friedrich strauss. 

in a way it is a relief to finish mill - it is quite hard on the soul. on the other hand it is good to have this material reactivated in horsemouth - he always hopes there will be some progress with it. ok bath, babysit then a walk around.