I woke from a dream about the Queen. Well, it wasn’t directly about her. I had been commissioned to do some illustrations to celebrate her visit to a small town shop. The interest of the dream for me is watching myself in my dream state trying to solve creative problems. I hadn’t been given much time so I had to find some short cuts. I thought about basing my ideas on Warhol’s coloured screen prints of her, though in my dream I couldn’t remember his name. My concerns in my sleep state were all wrapped up in printers and scanners and office drawers. I can see as I write it where these notions come from, they reflect, as they usually do my waking thoughts, though a trifle jumbled, as if they’ve been put in a tumble dryer. Nice though – there was pleasure in the work and the solving. And what a busy bee I am in my sleeping.
I’ve finished his quilt. What a job. It doesn’t look so bad. I enjoyed the hand sewing at the end the best. A control thing I suppose, or perhaps the quiet of it is preferable to the jarring noise of the machine.
Listened to Jens Stoltenberg on Desert Island Discs. An earnest man, I think, and a trifle serious. Very sing-song English. I made me homesick.
House cleaned. Tea made for me, coffee for him. Now to work.
It was her birthday today, I think. Such a long time ago. A good friend, a kind friend. I miss her laughter, her blitheness and her courage. Rest in peace.
