We are in Wales.
Dexter Phillips wasn’t lying when he said he comes from
money, as I am typing this from a grand (if slightly needing maintenance) house
on the West Wales coast. There is a Welsh name for it, but Dexter – and
apparently the entire Phillips family – refer to it as The Manor. It’s the kind
of place that once upon a time would have had servants, but now we are self
sufficient. There is a rota for cooking breakfast and dinner, and in-between we
talk about our dreams and what they mean to the wider world.
After Dexter Phillips and Denise, Julie and I were the first
to arrive. We were surprised to find ourselves given single bedrooms. Even when
we reminded Dexter that we’re a couple, the sleeping arrangements didn’t alter.
The most important things, he said, are the dreams and nothing (including amorous
encounters) must be allowed to get in the way of those.
Arriving over the course of the week was Jessica, a
hairdresser from Hull; Tom an Australian accountant; and Hans, a footballer from
a lower league German team. There are more on their way, we’re promised, but
the dynamic between the group as it is now is good. When you’re seeing the same
pictures each night, then you do have a lot in common.
Maybe it’s the clean coastal air, or maybe it’s the fact
that so many of us are together – but the dreams seem even more intense out
here. They are the same dreams, I am still seeing London and my home within the
city, but that seems a long way away now.
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