Just back in hot old London from a week playing music in Yorkshire. Home,
tired, went to sleep. Woke up, ate. Went to sleep. Woke up, 71 e-mail
messages. Went to bed, went to sleep. 2.00 am woken by strange yelps. Went
to the front window. A fox emerged from the gate, stood on the pavement
gazing up at me. We contemplated each other for some moments. Then it
turned, trotted across the street, jumped the fence and disappeared into
the dark of Peckham Rye Common.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
|