After another wonderful breakfast I was dropped off at the station.
It's cold in them thar hills...
My son texted to inform me that Whitley Bay was -3 in the temperature stakes today. All of which made me glad I was down here instead of up there. On the way in I got a call telling me that this afternoon's meeting was going to have to be rescheduled.
Out of Marylebone and along to Baker Street and then over to Bond Street. Or Henry Ford, Charles Darwin and Geoff Hurst if you follow Simon Patterson's 1992 work, The Great Bear
Then into South Molton Street where once William Blake lived and, as Peter Ackroyd puts it, sat brooding.
Here amongst the expensive eateries, chatteries and shops selling things that people with too much money do not need, if you close your eyes it's just possible to imagine William Blake, living in poverty and with his visions; heaven, hell, Albion and eternity parading past his eyes.
My meeting with a significant participant in the King Crimson story took place a few doors down. It turned out to be a session where some very different songs of innocence and experience were expounded upon at some length.
In clock-time 1969 seems like a long time ago but talking to people who were touched by the music and moved to do things as a result of that exposure, the power of those events seems very real and very much with us in the present.
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