October
balloons above Richmond in the early morning light. Another two, yellow, drift
slowly over Malvern, and there’s a lot of Malvern. The day has started on an
eventful note, for some. I once thought of writing a play about a balloon trip:
the excitement of preparation, the manager with all his hot air, whether to
take extra woollies. Are binoculars much help? It was a disaster play,
existential in intent. They get blown off course, the thing deflates, ropes
snap, crows drift slowly by. As I recall, travelling in comfort along the Caulfield
embankment, it had mordant Beckett dialogue.
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