Revival Coffee Shop, George Street, Hove

January is a month spent under siege, living in a succession of interiors; living rooms, bedrooms, coffee shops, public transport, bookshops, newsagents, kitchens, hallways... Anywhere to avoid outside. The outside, the exterior of our lives becomes a harsh thing, a trauma of weather that doesn't even have the romance to be particularly dramatic. No snow, no storms, not even any great rainfalls to speak of, just a drizzle-like depression made weather, a light that turns everything monochrome.
Despite the fact the days are getting longer, it always seems to be on the verge of getting dark.
I leave the house later than intended - 3:00pm - again on that dismal verge. I consider going to the studio, but I think of the cold, the damp, and soon reconsider.
I head to Tescos instead to buy dinner.
After Tescos I give Andrew a call. He's in Hove Library - I meet him there, and we soon head off to Revival for coffee. I decide to break into the sketchbook - the notebook - the journal - whatever it is - I still don't know - this book of lost days and draw the empty corner of the back room of the cafe over Andrew's right shoulder. Interiors are hard to draw - too many angles, too many things to get wrong. It's a start anyway, and at least I have started. I meant to start last week, but the main sympton of this mild virus of the last ten days has been a kind of heavy indolence; ennui mixed with headaches, and restless dreams that seep into the day. As I draw, we talk about Doctor Who, growing older, moving house and people we once worked with.
No-one comes into the back room of the cafe. I can hear the cafe assistants talking about music. There's only a couple of other customers. Before we know it a couple of hours of passed, and it is 5:30pm. We head out into the too familiar dark, and go our separate ways home.