May Day

Well, this is a damp slightly sorry looking Mayday. I had strange dreams last night, in which I owned a black fabric suitcase. A scarab beetle, sparkling with white jewels that seemed to be diamonds crawled to the centre of it, with what seemed to be its little sphere of collected dung. Then out of it unfurled these other diamond coloured dung beetles. Some crawled away, some I placed elsewhere. Then I was walking with an old friend. We had an odd conversation I can't recall anything about except that sense of awkwardness.

There was a set of flats with a janitor. We rang, he let us in, and we went to the top where there was a swimming pool. I suddenly realised that I had inadvertently swallowed a cockroach, and fished it out of my throat, then flushed it down the toilet. My friend had stripped down to his undies and gone swimming in the pool, I realised that I couldn't because I had no swimsuit, and my undies were all white cotton, instantly see-through on contact with water.

I am meant to be joining the Deptford Jack-In-The-Green today. It's tempting to stay in with the cats.