This may surprise you.  It
certainly surprised me.  Last night I
dreamt that I was walking in a strange city with Mitt Romney.  He was on some kind of political walkabout,
meet and greet, but it was just me and him. 
We walked together down a long narrow alley, and at the end it opened
into a vast cube-shaped courtyard, with four high, windowless walls and one of
them had a sign for a “Chapel of Rest.” 
There was one old woman sitting on the ground with her back to us.  The walls were made of some kind of curious
brickwork, very thin brittle, bricks, in many different shades of red and brown, and Romney
talked about this, showing himself to be very knowledgeable about the history
of bricks.  And in the dream I thought to
myself well you know, a man who explores a strange city like this and knows
about the history of bricks can’t be all bad.













In some oblique way I think this was related to the Kelvedon Hatch Secret
Nuclear Bunker (above), in Essex, which I visited when I was England last month.  The whole place is a temple of cold war gloom
and obsolete office equipment, and it has a long narrow entrance corridor,
which could well have been a precursor of the long narrow alley I walked down
in the dream with Mitt.














The late Christopher Hitchens was somewhere in the dream too.  He was alive, but already terminally ill, and
I argued with some heckler on Hitchens’ behalf: a thing he would surely never
have required in life.  I think he was
there in the dream because of the time he was walking down a street in Beirut,
strolling “in company … on a sunny Valentine's
Day  … in search of a trinket for the
beloved and perhaps some stout shoes for myself” and defaced a
poster from the Syrian Social Nationalist Party
because it bore what he described as a "spinning swastika," and was duly beaten by SSNP heavies.  A bit of political graffiti that actually
meant something.