tennis balls thrown into the river for dogs to fetch (and never recovered)

good morning! good morning!

horsemouth is up late (by his standards).

last night a fox came to peak in his window (horsemouth regrets not getting the camera on it faster)

soon TG will be phoning (they want to try and get out for a ramble before it gets too hot). as horsemouth noted to his mum last night it is due to hit 35C in london next sunday

joggers, cyclists, a heron white butterflies, water-lilies and crows, jack russell terriers, tennis balls thrown into the river for dogs to fetch (and never recovered).  

that's the sort of thing horsemouth saw last time when he went out. 

after that he mostly sat in the shade and read. blindness  is going well. well it's going badly for the characters. in the kingdom of the newly blind those who have been blind for a long time are king and have instituted a protection racket and control over the food. horsemouth has the harvill edition with illustrations by jeff fisher. a column of blind people proceeds along arms on the next shoulder (as in the paintings, as in the breugels). on the frontspiece the silhouettes of six blind people are arranged so that it would make a standing sheet sculpture. 

soon they will leave the old mental asylum where they are confined - they will realise that society has crumbled round them. 

at 17.27 one of the moments that started it all for horsemouth when he saw it on tv in 1979. hawkwind fire off  into deep space, michael moorcock chunters on about how calm they are in the face of technology (there were synthesizers but no mention of stockhausen). there are clips from the jerry cornelius film - which as a film is become  a sort of our man flint romp, a sort of austin powers man of mystery. there's footage of pre-gentrification notting hill. moorcock and m. john harrison loll around as young turks saying rude things about old wave SF. 

like horsemouth says today first a wander round and then more hiding from the sun (he guesses).