Blur : [X] Think Tank.

2009.

'King's Cross accumulates fable, becomes literary coral.'

Roald Dahl : Measles.

Awful drive. Lorries kept holding us up on narrow roads. Got to hospital. Ambulance went to wrong entrance. Backed out. Arrived. Young doctor in charge. Mervyn and he gave her 3mg sodium amatol. I sat in hall. Smoked. Felt frozen. A small single bar electric fire on wall. An old man in next room. Woman doctor went to phone. She was trying urgently to locate another doctor. He arrived. I went in. Olivia lying quietly. Still unconscious. She has an even chance, doctor said.

They had tapped her spine. Not meningitis. It's encephalitis. Mervyn left in my car. I stayed. Pat arrived and went in to see Olivia. Kissed her. Spoke to her. Still unconscious. I went in. I said, 'Olivia. Olivia.' She raised her head slightly off pillow. Sister said don't.

I went out. We drank whiskey. I told doctor to consult experts. Call anyone. He called a man in Oxford. I listened. Instructions were given. Not much could be done. I first said I would stay on. Then I said I'd go back with Pat. Went. Arrived home. Called Philip Evans. He called hospital. Called me back. 'Shall I come?' 'Yes please.' I said I'd tell hospital he was coming. I called. Doc thought I was Evans. He said I'm afraid she's worse.

I got in the car. Got to hospital. Walked in. Two doctors advanced on me from waiting room. How is she? I'm afraid it's too late. I went into her room. Sheet was over her. Doctor said to nurse go out. Leave him alone. I kissed her. She was warm. I went out.

'She is warm.' I said to doctors in hall, 'Why is she so warm?'

Torn, Hard Lens, Page 130.

Nothing is ever simple. Or free, or honest, or genuinely given.

Stretch A Clothed Vein, Page 14.

Half a mile away, a wife thought it was the smell of her guilt and confessed to her affairs.

When her husband didn't react, she confessed to affairs she'd never had.

She kept confessing until she felt his warm fingers around her throat.

Enthrone Liveliness, Page 143.

To ensure his place in heaven, Desjeunes of Plainfaing, Vosges, had covered with holy pictures the bed where he killed himself with rum.

. . .

1969.

'Look at these heads around us. They're for today.'

Enthrone Liveliness, Page 131.

The Englishman James, a suburban celebrity, cut his throat at Courbevoie; he feared becoming insane.

Always Forget.

How much I look forward to amnesia.

Blur : [X] The Great Escape.

Enthrone Liveliness, Page 104.

'To die like Joan Of Arc!' cried Terbaud from the top of a pyre made of his furniture. The firemen of Saint-Ouen stifled his ambition.