Luvverly

I am sharing a room with Lily Langtree. She stares out of a photoframe next to the washbasin; on a table nearby sit freesias and feathers, boas and masks; latex orc heads, military hats dangle from shelves alongwith old paperbacks with names like 'A Plague of Soldiers', the window next to the bed lets in cool air, and the room smells lightly of cinnamon. Who says that gentleman can't make an environment fit for a lady? My hosts are most considerate. I am the disaster here, my carry-case like an exploded wardrobe on the floor of all this tranquility.

Work goes on, and I enjoy it, but principally I am looking forward to meeting many chums; the weekend sees me at a Lammas celebration followed by a mighty birthday party back with the Old Legion of Madmen and Fools. I can't wait.

I am happy today.