4 pm. A call from Fripp querying the lack of diaries has spurred my creaking body into action. With the alacrity of a rusty Zimmerframe, I have arrived at the keyboard, and will type furiously.
But what to write? I feel rather like a cartoon character waiting in a box between takes. The absence of diaries has been because there has been little to report. Lots of good things on the horizon, but….I am beginning to hate the horizon. I WANT MY CAKE AND I WANT IT NOW.
Although such thoughts seem absurd, when the radio carries news of deaths in Iraq. Two nights ago, I dreamt that this was an entirely phoney war. The US destroyed Iraqi television, and then broadcast news of surrenders and advances that were not really happening. They won the war sitting in Kuwait. Sadly, it really was a dream.
If this war must be fought, which I think it must – certainly now that it is underway – then I pray that it will be swift. That is far more important news than anything I can put in this diary.
So I am taking my rusty Zimmerframe and crawling back in the box.
