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It’s a nice day. The sun is shining in the sky, said sky is as blue as the glasses that gaze upon you from the top left of this page. I decided upon this Sunny Friday afternoon that it I should go and do some writing beside the riverbank. This was deemed Good, and so I packed up my notepad, camera and pens and wandered though Reading Town Centre to the lock, where I sat on a handy wall and gazed across the river, and the occasional barge that drifted lazily by. After a while, I withdrew the notebook, found a new page, and drew a box in the top left hand corner, and wrote something in it. Then I draw a similar box in the bottom right, and wrote something else in it. (Which was, in fact “ATLHEA”, as the first box was “OUAT” standing for, in reverse order, “Once Upon A Time” and “And They Lived Happily Ever After”, for this was a flow-chart of the plot of The Novel) then I thought for a bit, and drew a third box below the first, and labeled it “Lamp-post” before crossing it out and writing “Awake” instead. These things mean things in my mind. As I was drawing the forth box, my pen ran out. Cursing slightly (For I was obviously on a role here, and could have kept going all day) I attempted to withdraw a replacement pen from my bag, (For the price I paid for this box of fifty pens, I would be surprised to see them draw three whole boxes, so I had plenty) but was thwarted by the pens not being there. As I carefully unpacked the bag of reference stuff (Containing, in order, a dictionary, an atlas, a book of Greek mythology, and the camera. My work-centre at home adds the complete works of Shakespeare, a dictionary of Idioms, and an artist’s mannequin to that library) I noticed that there were little red spots moving around the wall I was sitting upon.

[Picture of Kennet Lock]For all my resolution to work in harmony with nature and in the piece and quiet by the riverbank, it doesn’t extend to being eaten alive by red ants, so I moved.

I moved, in fact, all the way to Café Italia in the shopping centre where they serve tea and really nice toasted sandwiches, reasoning that since the café was beside the river (Which is actually a canal, but I’m not fussy), then so was I. I drank my tea, ate my sandwich (Toasted baguette style, chicken and avocado) and boxblocked the first chapter or so of The Novel, then wrote a page or so. I resisted the urge to get another cup of tea, and wandered out. I wandered out, in fact, roughly as far as the Kitten Tree.

The Kitten Tree is a pub. In fact, it’s called “The Litten Tree” but will always now and forever not be known as such. It seduced me with a cup of tea when I got a flash of inspiration as I was passing it, which I then wrote while eating croissant and drinking tea.

So, generally a good day then.

On a related note, If I was to suggest that on the 28th June, at about seven-ish, I was going to suggest a Gathering, what would people’s reaction be?

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