Prospect Cottage (Perfect Lovers)

  1. likely a pun on prospect as "view" and as "future"

January (1989)

Wednesday 18

At low tide I collect large oblong flints which are uncovered by a good storm and plant them upright like a dragon's teeth in the beds. In front of them two small circles of twelves stones each form a primitive sundial. In spite of the dry summers these flower beds thrive. A little mulching helps.
Amongst the plants which grow in them are houseleeks and sedums, thrift, dianthus, saxifrage, campion, wallflower, purple iris, calendula, curry plant, rue, camomile, columbine, shirley poppy, santolina and nasturtium – and night scented stock to fill the evenings with its heavenly scent, attracting moths to drink its nectar.

April (1989)

Wednesday 26

April (1989)

Saturday 29

I think stones can be reincarnated quite safely, but agree with John that we should quietly disappear. Though the dolt who keep driving his Land Rover all over the shingle, destroying plants, should be condemned to return. Also the Borough Council, as reincarnation obviously employs a large bureaucracy.

May (1989)

Saturday 6

Three days of a May heatwave – the greenhouse effect sets in. Dungeness is to disappear in 100 years' time beneath the waves along with its power station – which, it's said, will take 100 years to dismantle. A meteor passes close to the earth, and the ozone hole shifts over southern Australia.

Monday 8

HB dreamed of Howard last night.

Tuesday 9

Donny left a message to say that Howard had died.

Wednesday 10

Glorious weather and three day shoot completed. A very happy experience, everyone excited to be back together again, all the good looking boys giving each other the gentle eye. David, who HB found at his gym, sparkles in the camera. Although he's never done this before, he does everything with the precision of one born to act. Asked to kiss Peter he did so without embarrassement – I explained to him how one screen kiss from a boy like him could set 1000 hearts free, he understood.
As we drove home I dreamt of a grand procession, like the Parthenon frieze, of naked young men with wands and torches, trumpets and banners, a triumph over death for dear Howard, figures draped in diaphanous silks with golden crowns and oiled torsos, naked youths on elephants, leading white oxen with gilded horns bearing all the heroes of history, Alexander, Hadrian, Michelangelo, Whitman ...

April (1989)

Sunday 30

May (1989)

Monday 1