Fog and Gringe

Awoke to fog, both internal and external. I like fog, I like the blurring of edges. This particular internal fog results from 'having friends round' yesterday, which is a considerable rarity in these parts, largely because it means lots of clearing up and worrying over stew beforehand, then a far increased frequency of chat during. Not that this is unpleasant, we awake, for instance, to 'tidy flat' as opposed to 'hell hole' which was the ancient incarnation of such events, and we have an increased and reassuring sense of ourselves. Old friends bring of course discussions on things 'you did' but can no longer remember and exacting re-enactments of when to begin air drumming 'Stairway to Heaven' and when things are going really well, introduce a bit of Level 42 ('Leaving Me Now') but only a bit. What is striking is most of it revolves around the past tense. We are now past tense people, even though the day itself might be described as 'wonderful' and all of that. And don't get the idea that just because it's the bloody festive season, this is going to happen a lot. These days when some dear friend announces an invitation to Dulwich, I say forget it. I've got my Gringe suit on.

So it's back to CNN for an update on today, no surprise that the major feature is on what will become the Quatar bubble. Faust eat your heart out. What I want for Christmas is intelligent essays on Faustian development.