On the run.

I’ve escaped, having been sentenced to execution.

The dream keeps resetting to the moment I escape and the first few days.

I’m crying hard at all the things I’m leaving behind if I’m caught or if I start a brand new life.

This isn’t a usual kind of dream and its refreshing to touch such deep sense of ending.

Dreams aren’t just dreams, they can allow real psychological resolution.

It’s all the brain after all.

If I’m a fugitive how much of ‘me’ can I bring?

Do I start again with nothing and live, maybe, or do I stay with what I know and be executed soon?

No choice but to end.

Either way.

Woke from all that 0730 in a bright bedroom in Alresford.

C already up and working out.

My neck is a bit cricked, which lasted all day.

Dropped my car at Phoenix Auto Services to be fixed: ABS light on and back brakes overhall and new lock mechanism to fit.

I always feel a bit at a garage’s mercy. I know what needs doing, basically, but when there’s a complication and it’s going to cost X amount, what can you do but say yes? Your car is already in pieces. But these guys I pretty much trust. But when did labour start costing £45 per hour plus VAT? In the end it was £490 for new pads, discs, callipers, ABS sensor, a few bits and bobs, and fitting the lock.

At work checking remastered audios back from the studio.

Hot day again, sunny lunch with some Mature Students, talking about the river swimming spot near Alresford. A bit of a local non-secret secret.

Walked my usual post-lunch walk. Which looks like this in places:

For a few days more.

By evening the cricked was neck mostly gone.

Watched some of a documentary about the D-Day landings.

Some old dudes remembering it.

Do we become more and more ourselves as we age? These old chaps looked entirely themselves. Such character in their faces.