Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Music, Politics

Day 263

Back to normal again today, finally, at least on the radio. I decided it was fine, sitting in for Marty, to play some loud sweary stuff, and to play some songs that had politics as their main theme. And you know me, anything really good has to be political in some way or another – all music is. It being the first day back after an unscheduled public holiday, the emails and hone were running hot as well, so I’m just glad I have the flexibility to do what I need to do when I need to do it. And it helped that I’d put some hours in yesterday to keep on top of things – and to deliberately avoid the blanket coverage.

So it’s been a pretty full-on day, which is why I’m only just putting this together, if putting together is the right way of describing something that I just write off the cuff and don’t particularly edit when I’m going along, nor when I’ve written it, and nor do I particularly think about it once it’s done. It’s not exactly throwaway, but it’s just a tiny part of my day (or should be if I approach it correctly), and just a tiny snapshot of the continuous thoughts running through my mind. Which reminds me that although I emailed myself a to-do list last night, I’ve forgotten to do at least two of the personal things I had put on there for me (book flu jabs, and something else, which momentarily escapes me). Pauses to actually write them in his day book.

There, done. Although I can’t easily decipher what I’ve written. Colonel L does joke that when he receives my letters, he ought to get some sort of help from Bletchley Park to decode them. My writing has always been difficult to read. When we moved back to England in 1974, it slanted backwards (ie to the left) big time. The it righted itself and became strictly vertical but very compressed (I have teachers’ notes somewhere asking me how I expected people to give me good marks if they couldn’t read what I was writing). And then, when I finally switched permanently to black ink rather than the despicable blue, it began to slant forwards (Ie to the right), and has remained in that posture ever since. I did, a few years ago, win some sort of competition about handwriting, and the prize was a font based on my handwriting. It’s on a machine somewhere, I’m sure. One of these days I will find it.




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