Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Writing

Day 214

M is away, so, although I promised myself not to do so, I stayed up too late last night and woke up feeling exhausted and cross with myself. I’ll get over it. I caught an old programme about Canaletto, one of my favourite painters, who features heavily in Tettig’s Jewels, and revelled in 50 minutes of Venetian scenery. The thought I had when watching it was that I’d love living in Venice, but in solitude, whilst I’d love living in Agios Nikolaos in company. It put this sudden love affair with Crete in context, and explained to me better why I’d prefer AN to Venice. I suppose if I win the Lottery, I’ll buy houses in both places (ha!). Actually, in reality, to own less would be a better idea, even now.

Spurious thoughts on a grey morning. I’d rather still be asleep.

So, Love Island is over for another year. The winners were fairly predictable for a few weeks. Yes, I know it’s a ridiculous programme, with more faults than it should have, but to me it’s like an obscure psychological experiment. And one which, deservedly, tends to show up men for the shallow and manipulative creatures they are (and as being imbued with an exceptionalism that they, like the English, have no right to carry with them).

Dredging these words out from somewhere. With great difficulty. My mind is disorganised and sluggish this morning. And I’m getting too obsessed with the Greek app for all the wrong reasons – league tables, outdoing others etc rather than actually focusing on the language; is competitiveness hard-wired into men, no matter how beta male some of us try to be?

Onwards. Focus. Get through the hours.




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