Stanmer was empty, but it was cyclonic this morning in Brighton, right up until just after we pulled up there. Perfect timing, a gap in the clouds and some bright light and we thought there’d be loads of families, but it was just a few zedders in front of us in the café deciding what they wanted for half an hour. When out of civilisation, civilisation didn’t follow us. Hurrah. A moment of peace in wet nature. I found and plucked up a Destroying Angel. My friend got some in Hampstead recently. Beautiful tasty looking absolute fuckers. Same toxicity as a Death Cap and similarly there’s no cure which is never a good look. Probably best to pull them out in case there’s a well meaning clueless forager. I’ve known people to eat mushrooms on a hunch and it is madness. But maybe I’m a little overzealous with my 3 strikes and a second opinion before I can eat each one even the easy ones. But certain death is high stakes for a free vegetable.
From Stanmer into town. Metta bhavana at the Buddhist centre. I assumed it would involve chanting it but it was more of a deep dive into love through meditation. We don’t have to like everyone, we won’t like everyone. But we can try to love everyone. Even the very very hard to love. Even people you think are absolute idiots.
There was a march in London today and lots of people turned out for it by the sound of it. Likely it would have been very crowded in town. After a week of tube strikes it is likely to be a febrile night once Wetherspoons is shut. I’m glad I’m in Brighton.
Sad to miss my friend’s party tonight for not being in town, but I’m really enjoying this peaceful mindful time by the sea. After the Buddhists we went to Lunawave Beaconsfield which is up by a viaduct, a gorgeous new sauna in an old pub garden. The woowoo crowd in Brighton are very active and it seems saunas can pull in the numbers at the moment – everyone is doing them. With autumn closing in, of course I jumped at the offer from Lou, and got good and hot and relaxed.
Now we’re chilling at hers. Watched the rest of our crap action movie, discussions about ways to make shit writing sound like people. (Targeting and commitment, mostly targeting. There was so much woolly stuff or people trying not to say it cos they didn’t know why they were saying it. ’twas ever thus, it’s why I switched out of regular TV watching a long time ago. I think the nail in the coffin was an episode of Made in Chelsea (which I know was pretending to be real but was evidently staged and just so hard to filter that I lost all faith in the medium). Large scale American series bought me back but fuck me there was a dark patch. Nobody speaks when they actually don’t know what they mean). But I’m not feeling particularly ranty. I’ll leave that for those people in London.
AlBarclay 