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England was good. No rain fell. Even London looked fine in the sun, blossom on the trees and the buses clean and shiny. I made friends in The Caxton with a BNP supporter, but he bought me drinks so I forgave him. 'Selling lots of books?' he asked one night. 'Sadly not,' I told him. Then back to Anerley with TP to listen to miserable songs and to think about what might have been, the whisky bottle as sternly present as the memories. One day I walked from Tower Hill to Holburn, read with MD, HH and GvdR, but MMB was sadly sick and didn't make it, which was a shame. Back in Spain now and it is surprisingly cold and wet. It won't last. But then, what does?

8 May 2010
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