Things of great significance that I woke up thinking about.

I don't usually wake up with pleasant and harmless thoughts running through my head in the morning. I have Wind in the Willows to thank for this, no doubt.  

So, without further ado: Things I thought about this morning that were rather lovely, thank you very much:

1. My pilgrimage to the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1993 to see the original EH Sheperd drawings for Winnie the Pooh. I was allowed to have a pencil and paper with me to take notes (? Like there were notes to be taken that would have been sufficient enough to leave with any real sense of what I was seeing there). I was given white gloves to handle the drawings as well, and they were Sublime.

2. My godmother, who took care of me before and after school when I was little, and who will forever and eternally call to mind the Britishly-anthemic intro to the BBC radio news, complete with the four beeps at the end, before the newscaster begins. And also english muffins with butter, first thing in the morning.

(My mum told me last night that 'Del (said godmother) had come to visit some weeks ago. She has been having worsening hearing problems over the years, so my mum put some headphones on her that were hooked up to the computer, and played her Symphonic Bach, one of their mutual favourites, and for whatever reason, 'Del was able to hear it fully for the first time in forever, and the look on her face I am told was of unparalleled Glee. Love it. In fact, am listening to symphonic Bach in empathy, this very morning.)

3. This strange place which I dream about with fascinating frequency (and did so again last night), always in a different context, and for no particular reason that I know of. It always seems to have "London" as an undertitle (were dreams to have undertitles) but isn't actually any place I know of in London, and so serves as some generic fantastical european place of old buildings and narrow streets and convoluted urban corridors of historical aesthetic, which I of course deem London-esque, 'coz that's just what I do. It's a bit inscrutable as cranial tendencies go, as it's almost like some irrelevant set change. Nothing particularly Londoney ever happens in said place/dream; indeed the setting rarely has any relevance at all. 
Except of course that it's extraordinarily comforting and nice-looking.