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Kingston Writers School

Yesterday I went to the official launch of the Kingston Writers School, held at the Royal Society of Arts. It was a jolly gathering, with writers including Rachel Cusk, Jane Jordan, Heidi James-Dunbar, Lillian Pizzichini, Nicky Matthews-Brown and a host of others in attendance. I, however, had to leave after an hour as I had been grappling with a bad headache that was threatening to develop into a full-blown migraine for most of the day. I am not processing stress very well at the moment at all. I wish I had a button that simply cut off excess cortisol, or whatever chemical it is within me that is not being processed satisfactorily. Earlier in the day I met a friend at Tate Britain and we ambled through the twentieth century art, through the nineteenth and the favourite Pre-Raphs and down into the seventeenth and eighteenth. When we emerged on the top step of the Millbank entrance and then proceeeded to walk down towards Parliament Square we agreed, both of us northerners, that we were very fortunate to live in a city so choc-a-bloc with culture and impressive architecture. As we passed Lambeth Bridge we noticed that on either obelisk was mounted an acorn, and then again when we looked down towards St. John's Church in Smith Square, the mounted steel carved acorns were again in presence, which led onto talk of how the acorns were chosen by the Middleton family included on their new coat of arms. Oh well, I shall have to look it up. In the meantime, it's back to the doctor's to see about these wretched migraines that leave me in such terrible states.




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