Octet

I had another one of my mental, lurid, lucid, realistic dreams last night. It was sometime in our future and Philippa and I had eight children. EIGHT OF THEM! We were living in a small caravan somewhere on a cliff. Philippa’s Uncle Tom – jealous of the fact that we had beaten his in-family record of six offspring – had turned all our relatives against us and had somehow forced us out of our home. Philippa was trying to sew two old school uniforms together so we could send our youngest off into education without buying any new clothes, while I was trying to cook baked beans on toast for half-a-dozen-plus people on a cooker that only seemed to have one ring working. I had a beard and I was wearing flip-flops. Other details escape me……

RC 14-3-19