(found sculpture/ Porte de Namur/ a Richard Tuttle?)

Half aimless wandering en famille, coffee, dribs of Christmas shopping, tram back & the opportunity seized for a
jog (a round of the woods, forehead set against the prevailing wind, walk back exhilarated to have snatched a space in the day, cheeks rosy in contrast to the December grey). Full of beans -
& tip more on toast for lunch. 57 varieties, men on a raft.

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Billie Whitelaw has died - odd how yesterday I flipped through a Beckett biog. & started in on Texts for Nothing.

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