Twin peaks

I AM exhausted. At 2am, I was woken from a wonderful, pre-pandemic dream (Rose and I were hosting a dinner party in the private room at The Wolseley and no one was wearing masks) by some inconsiderate snipe practising their haunting calls below our bedroom windows. After that, I lay awake listening to the sounds of the), some sort of sandpiper (, ), the barn owl (a long, harsh shriek that defies spelling) living in the wood behind us and the Self twins, Charlotte and Oliver, watching Justin Kerzel’s bloody version of (summer study requirement) at full volume in the drawing room.