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Saturday 13 August 1994

Stephen took me to lunch upstairs at Muirs. I thought it was to be just him and me but there was a bunch of literary types there. Friends of his. They were quite nice. I met a guy who's writing a hypertext novel about a class of 24 kids and their teacher. I said, 'Oh, really!' But then the conversation got onto something else.

Light rain fell through lunch and a dreamy mood descended on the diners. I fell to thinking of Gramps and felt sad. Fortunately a seafood salad appeared and the mood lifted.

Later I chose a dessert that looked like midget billiard balls. It tasted like fruit salad and peanuts.

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