5th April
The Obsessive Diary
We used to say, back in the nineties when psychedelics and barefoot were our every day, that we were in training. We’d say, when the poles reverse and everyone’s freaking out, we’ll be okay. And the ability to treat losing everything and everyone at a festival as the beginning, not the end, of an adventure we knew would stand us in good stead. We were agile. We could dance on shifting sands.
Yesterday in London having met Alex for lunch I stayed in place for my next appointment, an arrangement with S who’d I’d met at a dinner months ago, with whom I’d had a mutual there’s more to this feeling as the room emptied and we spilled out onto the street. They’d been seated at the far end of the table, we hadn’t spoken until they’d scooted up beside me during coffee to say hello and then it was over, there wasn’t time for more. So we’d made a loose plan to follow up and that was that. They went north, I went south, night buses trailed along Aldwych and I thought nothing more about it. Until yesterday.
