A rebel without a clue.

So many books. Damn you paper and ink. Glue and string. Where did you start? How did you start? What is the inspiration? Has everyone a story to tell? So many rhetorical questions. But also ones which have no meaning. How does anything start? Perhaps with perseverance and discipline. But what is the subject? Is the subject also the object? And the object an obsession. But what obsesses me in this emptiness? My state discontented.

Saturday, It's 6 o'clock. What a day. But I spent less than adequate time with Lola! On Monday she'll be busy busy busy. She enjoyed sharing my sardine pasta dish. I gave her roughly a third, in three scoop shares, before I disappeared, which she ate off the tupperware lid. Managed to cobble together a rockery with the tomatoes Maureen grew and Tony helped me deposit. There were 6, but I snapped one. And I brought two leggy looking french beans with me so I tucked them into the two gro-bags I had remaining and hope the slugs don't get to them... I put one of my own tomatoes in amongst the 5. Then I planted the Maris Piper main crop potatoes next to Andy and Ellie's plot. Just got one set to plant the coming week... Perhaps on Sunday if the weather improves? It's currently raining (it was when I hit the hay). *** Sunday, Break down is a break through? Break through to the other side... If you reach the shore before drowning? The present is a true gift. It is the ...