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It is generally known that I wear my political heart, such as it is, on my sleeve. This from the Guardian today on whether King Boris would serve in a new Tory cabinet (a cabinet is the best place for him, preferably with a large padlock. We could have locked him in a fridge once in Grimsby but we buggered that one up too).....

... it is generally assumed that Johnson would not want to return to cabinet, and that he would prefer to focus on books, giving speeches and earning lots of money.

Ha ha haaaaa..... wouldn't we all....

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I think I might have invented this term. At the beginning of Covid when we weren't able to photograph and paint dancers in a live situation, Jeannie said that painting from a photograph wasn't the same because normally, she would have a sense memory of the live experience: sound, smell, visual impressions that were contributory factors in creating the movement in her artwork. I suggested the term 'residual sensory imprint' and immediately thought...Wow, that sounds clever! If it is actually a thing then who invented it and if not, I hereby claim it!

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Not a catchy title, but it is what it is...

Sometimes it's fun to look back. I was rifling through one of my notebooks when I came across something I wrote back in 2019 on the way to visit my daughter in Copenhagen. She must just have 'acquired' a new boyfriend and I was on my way to meet him for the first time. The boyfriend - a brewer whose job is to invent beer, is still around and they are soon to become parents. It must also have been just pre-Boris as there is an oblique reference to one of his sponsors and to the imminent election. My politics will be instantly obvious.

At the airport. Even after many flights from Gatwick and other airports, I never know quite what to do. Today, I had to put my deodorant and other articles into a plastic bag but forgot the toothpaste, which may indicate something about the haphazard way I pack. So my suitcase was unceremoniously whisked off to be checked by an attractive Muslim girl wearing as headscarf. She told me the problem was the toothpaste and proceeded to wave a wand thing all over my bag. I asked what she was looking for; "Explosives," she said quite calmly and gave me a beautiful smile that quite made my day. I wonder what she made of the two packs of vegetarian suet!

Back in Le Comptoir my favourite Lebanese chain restaurant in Gatwick departures, with a glass of red Leb and a lovely Lebanese lunch platter in front of me. There was a time in the '70s when Red Leb would have been something completely different - not that I would know anything about that. Nice decor, friendly staff, lots of space, yet beneath me, Wetherspoons is packed to the gills with shouty Britons going to Marbella or somewhere. Why is this? Probably indicative of the way the country will vote.

It's always interesting to travel - what's that saying about it being better to travel hopefully than to arrive?* Had a text conversation with Emma about beer. I suggested that she might have become a 'beer hipster' because she was instructing me what to order when we all meet up for a drink after my arrival in Copenhagen. She said; "It's a nice fruity IPA." To which I enquired whether she knew what IPA stood for. She replied that " stands for India Pale Ale, because it used a yeast strain that could survive the long voyage to India."

She IS a beer hipster. She is also a grown up I have to keep telling myself.

*Attributed to RL Stevenson apparently.

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