Lartogan

The house that the magic pie was built on-

Whillid

I am on a train going to work. It is my first day. I am travelling with a man in his mid-50s. He is familiar (Gee-oh-Bee?) with glasses and close cropped hair. He's polite friendly and encouraging, going so far as urging me to accompany him. I do so-

When we arrive at -?- it is after 9am. I realise I am without my work clothes – I left them behind (at home?) - and am in a right panic as I'm wearing a tatty blue t-shirt over a white long-sleeved top. I pull at the shirt, poking my finger through the evident holes. I had hoped that Mr. Glasses could run me home in his car(?) but no, he has to go to work-

As such I'm left on the train(?) on my own and have to get all of my stuff(?) off before it leaves to make the return journey. A young, thin guy gets on and starts to help me shift my stuff. I then get off the train and on to the platform. My 'stuff' includes a guitar, an amp and a printer box(?) which is in a sort of square layout with a cordon around it-

Malvnirkdt

The (Kurt) Cobain "Kiosk". This is some sort of honourary construct to be built in his favourite park/spot in Seattle. Part of me is convinced that it used to exist and is being refurbished accordingly, but then I sort of superimpose the building onto the grassy landscape (over/next to a timber barn with a whalebone-esque profile – all very like the Hex album cover for fellow Seattle-ites Earth)-

I am looking over a simulacrum of the finished kiosk design with Emm Kay, a tall, skinny and stylish young woman formerly of my work. We are examining the outdoor seating area which makes up about one third of the kiosk's footprint, the rest given over to an internal space with perimeter seating. This will seemingly double as Nirvana's/a band's hang-out and rehearsal space. I ask Emm how tall the seats are. She bends ever so slightly and measures them against her legs and says they are about a mile. It's obviously not – it's not even a metre! - and having mulled it over and having spoken it aloud in my head a few times I eventually joke, "I know your legs are long but...!" She gets the gag and we both laugh-

Julamm

I am in some sort of Forbidden Planet-esque store(room, all black, angular metal shelving stretching from floor to ceiling. There is some deal whereby, after much investigation on my part, it seems you can get a giant plastic (Original Star Wars trilogy) Stormtrooper for £1.00 on top of a purchase (the comic 2000AD?) of £1.75. The Stormtrooper is a kit of sorts, comprised of somewhat abstract components – parts of the limbs and torso are open/hollow and the helmet has oversized, almost 'googly' round eyes-

I an then out and about somewhere, a pub/bar I suppose, and see my old school friends Gee Pee and Ess Bee sitting together at a round table with two young women. After much swithering I go over to Gee – his older brother Arr, with whom I used to be very good friends until our mid-teens, passed away a few years ago – approaching him with much trepidation. Gee, a "cheeky-faced wee boy" as my mother would say, has grown into a darkly handsome man with deep and slightly menacing eyes, just a hint of inner threat. Thankfully he's pleased to see me and hold no apparent grudge over his brother and I falling out. He thanks me for my wee Facebook tribute to Arr and he and I hang around, going back to his house later-

His home is a lovely and spacious, immaculately furnished and kept ground floor tenement-esque flat. The front door opens into a vast living room. I still feel slightly on edge and surreptitiously peek at the many picture frames dotted about the place, trying to see a picture of his parents and/or Arr. Do I leave my wallet out (steal it?), Gee finding it, remarking on the rolled up wads of cash jammed in it – "It's a night out after all", he remarks. Is it not his house after all, but some place with an unpronounceable triple-barrelled name that Gee has booked, indeed he had to book it with no option otherwise, for the night?-