Ro and I were listening to Front Row on the radio this evening – amongst other things being talked about was Tracey Emin’s artwork, ‘ My Bed‘.
The presenter (ooh, I am bad with names) was talking to Germaine Greer. He said that the artefacts scattered around the bed referred to all the main connections with a bed: sex death pregnancy and childbirth. Ro and I looked at each other. “What?” said Ro. “Isn’t sleep in there somewhere?” We decided he was being just a little pretentious.
Has anyone seen quinces for sale yet this autumn? Al has been offered some, and he can’t remember what he sold them for last year. He can’t get them from the wholesaler so relies on locals to bring them from their gardens. He probably, he said, sold them for £1, but whether that was for 1 lb (one pound weight) or 1 kilogram, he isn’t sure. He wants to know whether to offer 27p per lb for them or 60p. Or, indeed, something in between.
I’m off on my visit to H1ghgr0ve tomorrow. I am going to leave the house rather before 5.30 am. I have to unlock the gate to the carpark and some people will arrive absurdly early. Others will get there at the last minute. I am going to bed now.