I have a low-grade fever today. Or at least I feel like I do. I can't find the thermometer I bought to settle these matters during the pre-Christmas Tummy Incident, now Tummy Mystery 2014. I took it to Lincoln when Pluvialis and I went to see Paul McGann do Q&A in a frozen theatre and watch Withnail and I projected onto a sheet. I don't remember unpacking when I got back.
I can't find my hairbrush, either.
I went to bed this afternoon and dreamed those glossy dreams with melty edges you dream when you are not quite well. I dreamed about my mother's wedding dress and I was in my grandparents' house all alone, climbing the curving pale-blue carpeted staircase and there was a plane involved because the dress had been found across the world in a Caribbean restaurant and had been rescued by this pilot and the smell of avgas was on it and I was trying it on in front of the mirror when I remembered that my grandparents were both dead so it seemed strange that I could be in the house.
Maybe I left the thermometer behind and somewhere at the Holiday Inn Express it is saying that the temperature is normal.
The two-for-one naked photo shoot
5 days ago