[Ian Sinclair] Fridays April 24/ May 8, 2020
London Town. 10 of the clock, in the morning, April 24, 2020.
Weather: approximately just as Santa Monica summer of 1967.
Went back to bed this morning after listening to the early morning briefings of doom and disarray.
Slept for another hour and awoke dreaming of Matt Hancock, the British Minister of Health. It was just myself, Matt, and someone else, unclear who exactly, but I was tied up, or at least prevented from letting them understand my views, and they kept on moving away from me, and sort of around the corner, so that I was excluded from their conversation. Eventually I began to shout out in protest at my lack of inclusion in the decision-making.
Got up for this second attempt at life at around 0930 to switch on BBC Radio Four, which used to be called the “Home Service”, to listen to a rather lovely programme in which they interviewed five of the six women who had been maids of honour at the Queen’s coronation in 1953. Strangely comforting.
I am going to inhale a little PG Wodehouse this afternoon.
The sun is shining, and I am thinking of applying for one of those £25.000 small business loans. My business plan is to buy up decent, second-hand sailboats, and to skipper short, restorative and regenerative, cruises for exhausted cabinet ministers, and also for nurses. Apparently these loans will be made by the banks and 100 percent guaranteed by the government.
Of course I shall understand if Matt and Boris are too busy. But, surely the nurses deserve a break?
My duty is clear. It is time to reverse engineer some “Dunkirk Spirit” into the British People.
Just say no to TikTok and pick up your guitar.
Ian Sinclair | Finsbury Park, London | April 24/ May 8, 2020
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