I'm not sure I can place my finger on why, exactly, but I've been thinking a lot about the ("Tragic") little flat I lived in before I moved here to Brockley. That strange, self-contained world will probably always be a memory I hold on to as a time when my horizons were the closest they've ever been. Today, I learned that Pygar, the angel from Barbarella died in LA, aged 70. I wonder what he looked like in his later years and whether the place he went to has see-through plastic boobs.
I've done very little indeed today and I think I'm to consider it quite an achievement, really. My hands feel a lot better for spending the day watching Quantum Leap and Tin Man and doing nothing more strenuous than changing channel.