Dreamtime

A dream involving a version of Westminster Abbey last night, where a family member was celebrating a wedding anniversary, seemingly in the margins of some larger celebration, probably involving noble lords. This part of the dream probably brought on by our presently watching, for the second or third time, Netflix's 'Crown', Season 1. A series which takes a surprisingly brutal peek at the monarchy - and at Churchill - while managing at the same time to stay appropriately respectful. Although, as ever with costume dramas of this sort, probably best not to take any of the details too seriously. Dramas which might well attempt to capture the spirit of their times, but not the facts.

Some kind of a private room just off the main auditorium, involving things to eat and things to drink. Plenty of family but I don't know all the people. Presumably friends of family. Dress, business suits for the gents, fancy for the ladies. I associate this morning to the better sort of race meeting, perhaps Ladies Day at Epsom.

A young flunkey tells me all about how flunkeys are kept in their place, with lots of little digs from the foremen flunkies reminding them that they are furniture, not inhabitants.

Someone I don't know carries me off to a smart restaurant elsewhere in the precincts. Which turns out to be a large eating area carved out of one of the local supermarkets, possibly a Morrisons, a shop we very rarely visit in waking hours. Very crowded.

This won't do at all. I start to panic about not making it back to the celebration in time. Family member, not to say BH, will not be pleased.

Get out of Morrisons to get tangled up in a maze, not to say labyrinth, of old buildings in yellow stone. Some interior scenes, some exterior, these last with a scatter of said buildings in a grassed park. Some on top of low knolls. Some of which I recognise from books about quality architecture. I associate this morning to Downing College in Cambridge. The same chap for whom Downing Street is named?

Eventually discover that I am about half an hour's walk from the abbey. But fail to work out in what direction. I seem to have completely lost my bearings. No way that I am going to make it back in time. More panic.

Wake up with a headache. Now, thankfully, gone, chased away by two large cups of weak tea, taken with neither milk nor lemon. Tea bag saved for later.