The Tuesday Group.

I am a day behind myself! Yet I feel more present now than ever, particularly since departing from the most distinguished company of Madame X. And lending rhapsody to my present condition, my horologist in London has repaired and returned my watch. So, synchronous with myself and therefore the world!

I left for work with dread in my belly.

Gareth is on heat. His whole body is, generally, an act of physical innuendo. Yet today, as he threw himself into a long forgotten, but necessary tale of the hypnotist, I was diverted by a purple flyer pinned to the noticeboard behind him. Smilingly, I manoeuvred him aside. Sexual Feelings in the Consulting Room: A one day workshop. Of course, the professional in me knew this was precisely the kind of peer support I required. Another part of me simply yawned. I allowed Gareth to witter on until a mild ache crossed my lung. I began to wonder if half a minute with Gareth was going to undo all of Madame X's good work. With two or three large nods of the head, I trod on his foot and went up the stairs. Yet just as Gareth had seemed out of kilter, now even my room was unfamiliar. My desk, my books, my couch. It was as if a geometric alienation had occurred, as if my room were a Klee. While this was not terribly disturbing it did inspire me to have a quick brandy in the pub and then return for the Tuesday Group, warm with alcohol, aware that meaningful presence will always find it's screaming opposite.