2nd September, 2011.
Friday
I’m writing this in the afternoon, because I didn’t have time this morning. Fingers crossed I’ll remember most of it.

“Fugitive”
This is like watching a movie. Two prisoners are brought into a room when one produces some kind of weapon shaped like a ball and held in his hand. While the guards tussle to disarm him, the other, less dangerous prisoner makes a break for it. At this point in the movie I’m not very convinced but I continue to watch as the fugitive runs down a path, pursued by the police guards.

He finds case lying across the path and climbs inside, slinging a small bag in at his feet. Now I’m completely dubious.

“Knife”
I’m at a banquet with many others and I go to a table where I get cutlery. I drop the knife on the carpet and, instead of just wiping it against my skirt or taking another one, I decide I must go and find myself a clean knife in the kitchens.

Each time I find a knife from this point on it is covered in heavy-duty goop. Some of the knives mutate into chisels, spatulas and cheese knives as I hold them and all of them are dirty.

“F's essay competition.”
My eldest son follows me around, wanting me to choose from a thick book of essays something that he should submit for a competition. I'm absorbed by trivial things, at one stage trying to curl my hair with heated curlers and discovering that it’s damp. I want him to make his own choice because I don’t feel like reading through his book of essays.