entry 39

Jump to Comments

“Why do people always encourage their dogs to jump in the Thames ?” I tinker with a few glib replies to that & in the end say nothing. We keep looking out over the sunny mask of the water. Four in the afternoon at the White Hart, on the debatable ground between Barnes & Mortlake, the river & the road. It seems we’ve known each other long enough not to need to speak. Just now I can’t think of anything nicer. Reading: Orhan Pamuk, My Name Is Red. Writing: my book. Reviewing: The Private Patient, PD James. Accepting: an invitation to Mexico City. Wishing I hadn’t missed: the BFI’s David Lean season in June.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized