This one us outside that marvellous institution Chats Palace. Every now and then N and I go dancing there - learning swing dance and lindy hop. It's hard going as we're sporadic attendees - easily forgetting everything between visits. But as long as I can let go of my desire to be Good and recognised as such we usually have a good time.
An added delight tonight was to find on the walls Bobby Bakers pictures of her more than two years in a psychiatric unit in Clerkenwell. I first saw them at Greenbelt and loved the fact I was able to 'earn' a print of hers at the festival. N hates it but it hangs in our kitchen never the less: a testament to the fragility and resilience of the human condition.
Which reminds me - I should leave another at the Homerton somewhere.
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