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Darn. All last night's dreams were rudely wiped from my mind when I was woken by an early morning telephone call. You know how it is when you're enjoying the complex taste of a Mouton Rothschild 2006, and then accidentally follow it up by swilling some dilute Harpic? Like that. I must hope for better luck tomorrow.

(For those who didn't recognize it immediately, 01643 is the dialling code for Porlock. See what I did there?)

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Date: 2010-05-28 08:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] brisingamen.livejournal.com
Your dream diary is getting to me. I dreamed I was visiting a museum that was in the UK but something to do with America (and no, not in Bath), which had displays in the basement but you had to crawl through a rather odd arrangement of beams and door to get to it, which I duly did, came back, and then was taken there again, only to discover that in fact if the doors and beams were folded back correctly, there was a small lift. No, I don't understand it either.

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