Sunday, July 15, 2018

A garden party

Up and doing things in the garden. The drought has done horrid things to it, and there is little point in planting anything at the moment, as it won't survive us going away on holiday.

To B&Q where we bought a willow lattice that fits perfectly over the bars of our Juliette balcony. Which means that, once the bathroom is done, we can sleep with the doors open to the sky, without the danger of Brian flinging himself off onto the rooftop, only for me to have to rescue him.

In the afternoon off to Eastbourne, for a summer garden party. It is great that Lorraine didn't have to work today, as she normally does on Sunday. We drove alongside the downs, which are unusually golden coloured and dry. Lovely party it was too, and catered, so there were smart young men opening the door and leading us to the garden, and handing out finger food and topping up your drinks. Robin and Nick have done amazing things with their garden, which is huge and has been elegantly designed.

Had lots of fun talking to my favourite poets there, Sarah and Louise with young Zach, Charlotte with her husband Pete, Jeremy Page, and Janet Sutherland, who I was able, slightly drunkenly, to be a fanboy of. Lots of gossiping with all these folks. Being with selected other poets always makes me feel saner somehow.

Drove home, with my top hat slightly askew, and Lorraine and I then went to the PPT for a roast dinner. I had yet more drink, and had to spend the rest of the night drinking pints of water, and deciding to have several days off the sauce.  Just because the weather is boiling, doesn't mean it is the law to drink lager.

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Giggling squid and jerk chicken

A really nice day today, spent with Lorraine. We walked into town where I got a new tan coloured watch strap, to compliment the green face of my nice watch, and Lorraine looked at clothes and shoes and so on. As we were mooching about, I kept noticing young women with botoxed faces to give them trout pouts. To me this intervention makes otherwise attractive people look a bit gormless. We went to giggling squid together for a lunchtime snack and there was a frozen faced woman in there, whose lips were so bloated that she could only eat without her mouth open.

In the evening off to Bolney, to the village hall, where a charity evening had been set up on behalf of Hope House Haiti. Bolney has a strong link with this charity. A fun night, with tropical flavours, and about 150 people wearing garlands, and tropical clothes. Really nice Caribbean food too, such as goat curry, ('made with lamb because we couldn't catch the goats'), rice and peas, jerk chicken, and a chilli hot and tasty salad, which I judiciously washed down with some tins of Red Stripe. There was even a man playing a steel pan very well, but to ghastly Jive Bunny style Reggae medleys, a spot of limbo dancing, where the inspiring Yvrose, who runs Hope House with her husband Pierre Richard, unsuccessfully attempted in high heels. I enjoyed chatting with Lorraine's colleagues Claire and Sarah a good deal.

Home, and it was so warm, that Lorraine and I took a candle and a couple of drinks to sit outside on the decking when we got back.

Yvrose, and Pierre Richard leading a sung Grace before we strapped on the nosebags.


Friday, July 13, 2018

Golem

Up early and to tell the plumbers we don't want plastic. The stuff should be here on Monday, and the installation can resume, I hope, now into its third week. As yesterday, trying to work with little avail, while waiting for plumbers to get back to me and so on. A nice chat with Sonia, and I went for a walk for an hour and three quarters, and felt a good deal better for that. Listening to The Painted Veil  by W. Somerset Maugham. For some reason I have never read Maugham before. Orwell admired him, and I can see why. There is a coldness and clarity about his writing. Nice to be out and about, but still very hot. Thunder here and there in Southern England, not not a spot of rain here. It is now clearly a drought.

Meanwhile Trump is in England. Felt bad I did not go to the protests in London, in some ways. But keyboard warrior that I am I put something on facebook and twitter. The ignorant narcissistic Trump was a disgrace, contradicting himself, in his usual modus operandi, saying hugely damaging things, on record, and then retracting it as fake news. The man cannot stop lying. Led by Trump, the US is currently more of a threat to Europe than Russia, and is acting like the UK's worst enemy. The UK, broken by Brexit, and desperate to be tossed a carrot in the shape of US trade deals, is at its weakest in my lifetime, all of self inflicted wounds, is now in full appeasement mode. It sickens me to see this loathsome idiot getting the full works, Queen and all, and May holding his tiny groper's hand, 'a handmaiden'. Neville Chamberlain had nothing on this shower.

Lorraine home from work, sans computer, and saying she was not doing work this weekend. We popped to the pub, for a pint while waiting for a curry, then simply unwound at home, watching a enjoyable film called The Limehouse Golem. According to something I just read on Wikipedia, one Golem, an ghastly anthropomorphic thing made out of inanimate matter, had the word emet (אמת, 'truth' in Hebrew) written on its head. Someone needs to set a Golem on Trump.


Thursday, July 12, 2018

Making promising things worse

While writing today, I skilfully make quite promising things much worse till I stopped. I am feeling stale, and easily put off my stroke.

Tom came this morning, and went straight to sleep in the spare room. Luckily there was no crashing today, but the bathroom saga continues, plumbers on the phone suggesting a plastic shower tray, and talked me into this. By the end of the day, and talking this over with Lorraine and the internet, it was clear I'd made the wrong decision, so will have to reverse this tomorrow.

Walked to Hove this afternoon, to call on Janet and Ken. Janet is feeling down for several understandable reasons, not least the recent death of her sister. She has seen the doctor recently too, who has suggested a scan on her liver. We ate the chocolate walnut brownies and chatted, and then went up a ladder to peer at various smoke and carbon monoxide alarms and track down one that was beeping, which (with my usual DIY talents) fell out of the ceiling Rawlplugs and all as soon as I touched it.

Janet and  Ken are going to get a rescue cat shortly, as a replacement for the much missed Rossini.

Walked homewards, and bumped into Richard Gibson on the street. We talked about meeting up soon. He was due to play Bristol this weekend, but had to cancel. However some of the gigs have been going well. Home, succumbing to a 5b bus, I cooked chickpea curry for myself and Lorraine, and later rescued two frogs this evening from Calliope.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Oh well

Another nocturnal frog horror thanks to Calliope. Up early to let Alex the tiler in, who quickly found a chipped corner of the second shower tray, so the tray must be replaced yet again. This now pushes the whole job deep into next week, the disruption continues. Progress in any direction feels hard at the moment.

I left home at five and walked up to Anton's house to watch England play Croatia. Anne very exercised by having sat through an endless Roger Federer game at Wimbledon, which Federer lost. Anton preparing food and excellent burgers with homemade salsa and blue cheese dip, which we ate in the second half of the game, which went on to extra time.


Lorraine arrived shortly after England had scored their early goal by the consistently excellent Kieran Trippier. Sadly, however, football is not coming home. England lost a close match, after a promising start. Overall England had done well and played with heartening freedom and with more teamwork than has been since 1990.

Now the football's done there is nothing to distract us from the reality of Brexit hitting the fan, the fracturing of the Tory government, and the imminent visit of the demonic Trump.  I think it would be far better to completely ignore Trump's visit, than protest it as his oxygen is attention.


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Removing guano

Up early. A good night's sleep, and a cooler more comfortable day, with no frog incidents. Lorraine off to work, being very busy. I got down to some writing, wrote a new draft of a poem, which I was quite pleased with. Next door were having their TV fixed which meant a man was climbing overhead of my study roof for a bit. Sigh. Washed the kitchen windows, and my study window, which had a big  sunbaked streak of guano on it, and tidied up. If in doubt: tidy up.


Early afternoon the plumbers arrived, and hammered out the shower tray with a hairline crack and replaced it. Meanwhile I settled into a good afternoon's work, and felt fairly productive.

In the evening I walked to Hove to meet Innis for a drink. Met him in The Paris House, which was empty and the beer overpriced. We sloped down to The Bottom's Rest and sat outside eating wasabi peanuts drinking beer, chatting about books and photography, and toyed with potential projects and rejected them for good reasons. Then to The Wick Inn where we had  Red and Green Thai chicken curries at a reasonable price. Fond farewells and then home on a timely 5b.

Monday, July 09, 2018

Hiatus

Another hot and atrociously frog-filled night. Had to get up twice to deal with hopping frogs and a monomaniac Calliope in a ghastly nocturnal struggle. The tiler was ringing on the doorbell at seven thirty, just as Lorraine was leaving, and I had fallen asleep really heavily again. Bleary chats with Alex the tiler, who just as he was getting to work spotted a hairline fracture in the shower tray, so this must be replaced before tiling can begin. A delay, but better than a leaking shower.

I enjoyed the hiatus of quiet when it resumed. Worked at my bits of poems, list making and so on, although feeling  bushed all day. A walk in the afternoon, but very hot. Finished listening to Down and Out in London and Paris today by George Orwell. The difference was there were a few clouds in the sky, some quite dark, but no rain. The land is crying out for rain now, and our garden is shrivelling.

The Brexit disaster drags on. I've tried not to fill this blog with remoaning. But today two 'top' Tories, David Davis and Boris Johnson, have resigned from the cabinet due to not being able to accept the marginally less self-maiming version of Brexit that Teresa May seems to be backing (and which they signed their agreement to, two days ago). Brexit is not, and has never been, a rational objective being a concoction of lies and fantasy, and now the bubble has to meet the needle of reality, it is not going to be pretty. What a laughing stock these fools have made of the UK.

Tom, Lorraine's nephew staying tonight, as he has an early start at Gatwick tomorrow. L and I chatting with him in the back garden. He's a very nice guy. A view of the setting sun.


Sunday, July 08, 2018

Bread heart

Lorraine knee deep in writing school reports all day. After we'd got up, I wrote a bit, listened to music by Barry Mills  and went for a long walk in the heat, listening to Down and out in Paris and London, and skirting about on the edge of town.

In the evening we got the bus to Hove and had a Greek meal with Betty and John to celebrate Beth having passed her driving test. A good meal it was too. We sat outside on a table in the street, as the evening was so warm, and tucked into some good Greek grub. Beth and John quite cheery, and Beth very pleased she has passed her test, although it won't seem quite real till they get the insurance sorted on Lorraine's old car.

On the way home I sent Beth a picture of a slice of chewy brown bread with a heart shaped hole in it, framing Lorraine's face. And Beth sent me a clip of a woman doing ridiculous sneezes, rather like Lorraine.

Below, Lorraine framed by chewy brown bread. Views from around Holingbury, down towards the football stadium, left of shot, and out to sea, you can see the prong of the i360. Note how yellow the grass is.




Saturday, July 07, 2018

It's coming home

Lorraine somewhat worn out this morning. Another scorcher. I felt curiously invigorated, and got up and bought bread and took Lorraine breakfast, and then got up again and cleaned the kitchen, mopped floors and hoovered. Then the rest of the day was given over to sloth and football.

Anton came around and we three ate salty snacks, drank some beer and watched England beat Sweden, to secure them a spot in the World Cup semi-finals, the first time since 1990. Weirdly, the English seemed to be having fun and expressing themselves, and had a comfortable 2-0 win. Gareth Southgate is an excellent manager. I really want Raheem Stirling to score a goal, because he went to my old school in Wembley, and his hesitancy in an England shirt in front of goal is so obviously a psychological glitch. He sends fear into the hearts of the opposing defence with dribbling and darting runs. One goal from him will unleash a torrent.

Enjoyed having Anton round, and we seemed to drink quite a lot of beer, but the occasion did warrant it.  Another blooming scorcher today. The plants are crying out for water.

Anton went home, and I found the only logical thing to do was to watch the next match, which was Russia versus Croatia.  Lorraine cooked some gorgeous chicken wrap things, and we settled down to see a titanic struggle, after a poor first half. The Croats going through on penalties. Croatia are England's next opponents in the semifinal. I think England can beat the Croats, and if they do England will be in the final. The last time England were in the final, was in 1966, which I remember well, watching it in Guernsey with Dave my granddad. He was very pleased, and the fact it was the West Germans we beat then, doubly pleasing after the occupation. There is a feeling that, in the words of the song, it's coming home, football's coming home.

And then L and I dragged ourselves up to bed, but only after I had to struggle with Calliope who brought two live frogs in from the garden and I took them out again.

Friday, July 06, 2018

A full day

A blissful morning, without labouring or drilling etc. overhead. Got to grips with some good work, and feel at the end of the week, that I have evolved a progress plan, have identified several weaknesses in what I've been doing, and know what my next steps are. I feel as if I have turned a corner somehow.

Because not having to be at the house, I set off for a walk. But I got no further than about three yards, when I started to chat to Clem, and soon found myself up on the roof looking at tiles, and firewalls, and discussing what to do about the fact that the cheeky bastard who had fixed our TV a couple of years ago, had done so by simply legging across the roofs and sticking it onto Clem's chimney. Also looked at lead flashing etc which has split on our roof and may cause damp in our bedroom. Seems I am destined for domestic doings. Clem however, is expert in all these kind of things, which is good.

After this done, I resumed my walk, and walked for a couple of hours or more, in the wilting heat, listening to Down and out in Paris and London by George Orwell. Made it home, and after showering and doing a bit more writing.

By cab to St Luke's church, where Glen and Joseph Spooner were playing a concert, some of it of the composer Barry Mills' work. Barry was there giving a short introduction to his work. Adam Bushell was also there.  But seeing Glen and Eleni was great, they seem glowing with happiness together which is great to see. I was pleased to be able to see them, because L and I hadn't been able to go to their wedding.

The concert was excellent, a lovely programme and Glen played excellently, and Jonathan played cello beautifully too. Particularly keen to hear the Barry Mills pieces, Mountain Light (homage to Webern) The Winding River Roe, The Flight of Time, and Love's Song, The Wondrous Night, which were interspersed with pieces by Webern, Vaughan Williams, Colin Matthews, Samuel Barber, and Schubert which had influenced him.

Met Lorraine outside the venue, as she had not been able to get away from school having too much to do to attend.  We crossed the road into the Islingword pub. Nice to have good drink there. Had a chat with Barry and we said that we should meet up.  Then there was a scrap between two lads, as usual I found myself pulling one of them off the other. This chap expressed his displeasure by throwing two glasses which crashed into the optics behind the bar, before leaving. The police came afterwards. All a bit lively. And Glen told Eleni that this was proper English culture.

Despite this, a really cheery evening. L and I then going home by taxi. I have downloaded this app which means you can order a Brighton taxi without having to speak to anyone, which I like. Lorraine and I home to beans on toast.

Below Clem on the roof, an afternoon stroll over the sunbaked land, and Glen and Joseph Spooner.







Thursday, July 05, 2018

Taking shape

Hot and uncomfortable night. Just one plumber today, and so slightly easier to get some work done.  Really hot again, and sat on a little table out in the back garden.  The en suite bathroom is now taking shape, and ready for the tiler, who will come on Monday I think.


Wednesday, July 04, 2018

Poop poop!

Poop poop! Beth passed her driving test today. She called me, extremely happy, shortly after. She did it with only two minors, which apparently is excellent. Very happy for her.

Plumbers here all day. They turned up early this morning, (I'd been expecting them in the afternoon) and nice blokes. They are dismantling everything in our en suite, taking away the shower that doesn't work, the bath tub that you cannot have a bath in, the broken sink and the broken toilet. All is well. Obviously this is great to do, but completely disruptive. I was able to do some pretty good thinking once they'd left however.

Cooked, and a short walk around the block and sat outside in the sun for a while. When Lorraine came back we sat outside, and ate in the sun.

Very hot come bedtime, and Calliope woke us up shortly after we went to bed, with a live frog hopping about, and Calliope nastying it.

Betty's excellent driving instructor Dawn took this snap of her newly qualified pupil.


Tuesday, July 03, 2018

A win

Last day before the plumbers arrive. Email working today, as I will need to be on hand for workmen for the next few days, a long walk this morning. Then lots of tiny tasks such as proofing my poem War diary in 1/72 scale, replied to my accountants, chase an unpaid invoice and other tiny tasks.

A longish call with Janet, understandably feeling sad after her sister's death. I arranged to go around to see her next week.

Finished The Anatomy Lesson, and begrudgingly admire it. Next up  from Roth is Portnoy's Complaint, but only after I finish several other books.

I consulted the I Ching this afternoon, which I have not done for some time. It gave me the most positive reading I have ever had from it over several decades. Irrational thought it is, I felt quite boosted by it. Just because something is irrational, doesn't mean it is meaningless.

Football this evening, England taking on Colombia, and amazingly enough beating them in the penalty shoot out. It was a deserved victory especially as the Colombians were, as I ah-hem believe the term to be, dirty bastards. England overcame their past, by not losing the plot after an injury time equaliser, very much against the run of play, forced extra time and then penalties. Old England would have lost this game. New shiny England, piloted by Gareth Southgate, who seems to have a good brain, and talked about how they had owned the process of the penalty shoot out, and reframing England as a team who does not have to play their own history of failure, that they have to make their own history.  Southgate for PM I say.

To bed, happily enough, after hearing on the otherwise v quiet street, a quick outburst of Football's Coming Home by some small and intoxicated choir.

Below, the sun-yellowed grass of Preston Park.


Monday, July 02, 2018

Kvetching

Hot again, blue cloudless sky. Resumed my Monday desk with a song on my lips, but the melody quickly snatched away by BT internet. I could send or receive no email till the evening, and wasted time on futile conversations with people at BT, too time-consuming and dreary to go into.
 
Ordered tiles for the bathroom. And was watchful of Brian who had I think been in a nasty fight the night before, and was moping about but seems to be not physically harmed. Perhaps it is just his pride.

More Philip Roth. The Anatomy Lesson is full of kvetching* and not thought of as his best, and quite amazingly self-indulgent. It is one of three semi-autobiographical novels about the consequence of having written a semi-autobiographical novel. It did make me laugh when the main character, Nathan Zukerman, (an author of a famous semi-autobiographical novel) is on a plane talking to the man next to him, and telling him that he is a pornographer, and going into incredible detail about his imaginary business, and giving his name as his worst literary enemy.

Spoke to Mum, when she and Mas were free of the company of Barry next door.

Cooked and when Lorraine arrived, I fed her we watched a spot of football. The end of the exciting Japan Belgium game. Japan surprised everyone by going two nil up in the second half, and I was a bit sad when they were beaten, though their ganbatte was plain for all to see.

*Kvetching is a word I learned today, and it means persistently complaining. I like it: kvetching is a word that spoke to me today.

Sunday, July 01, 2018

Lazy day

A pinch and a punch for the first of the month. Lorraine somewhat frazzled by the week, and working yesterday doing things for the school in the village day, needed a quiet day today, and I was more than happy to oblige. Breakfast in bed, and when we did get up it was only to drink coffee on our new decking, and discuss the garden, only to decide it was too hot, and the ground too dry to actually do anything to it.

We measured the bathroom area that needed tiling. We half watched the world cup, penalty shoot outs and all. A quiet and virtuous day. Lorraine chatted to Maureen, as they were back from their holiday in Finland. Also to Beth who is taking her driving test this week.

Ken sent us this picture of Pat, with a two-seater Spitfire amongst other planes behind him. Great shot.


Saturday, June 30, 2018

Hot tickets

Another blazing day. Lorraine and I off this morning in the Qashqai to Hateful Heath to look at  tasteful light grey tiles for the bathroom.  Lorraine then dropped me off at Brighton station, before having to go to Bolney for the village day.

The station was like a stirred up ants nest, as there were no trains to meet Klaudia for our golden ticket trip to London. After an hour or so, we had a cuppa in the station cafe and as the trains were so royally doomed discussed our options. After an hour, however, we caught a crowded train to Blackfriars, and eventually found ourselves sitting opposite a woman and her dog from Durham, both stressed about missing their connecting train.

A couple of tube stops to Monument and then walked up to the Aldwych where we found the Duchess Theatre. We squeezed into a Byron burger joint and had speedy chicken burgers, gulped down a milkshake and a cloudy lemonade before we found ourselves having our bags searched to get into the theatre.

We had second row seats and the theatre was packed. The play was just starting as we settled in.  The Play That Goes Wrong, was luckily, extremely funny. A sort of slightly post-modern farce, with all kinds of visual gags, and the set collapsing, and stagehands being drawn into the action, and the corpse's hand being trodden on and so on. It reminded me a bit of Tom Stoppard's The Real Inspector Hound. Klaudia and I loved it. I would highly recommend it, and happily see it again.  Because Klaudia and I have seen a few shows now, we can compare and contrast. Klaudia's favourite so far before today was the hip-hopera Into the Hoods.

After the show we threaded through Covent Garden, chatting about what we'd seen. The sun really hot, and being in London reminding me of being in Italy. Our journey home couldn't have been easier, however, a fast train at Victoria and were soon home.

I love my golden ticket days out with Klaudia.

We slowly walked up to West Hill Road. I popped in to say hello to Anton and Oskar before bidding my delightful goddaughter farewell, and strolling down to Hove in a sea breeze.

Lorraine and I met up again in Hove where we spent the evening with Rosie and Innis, met Rosie's mum Susan again, and Emily and the twins Phoebe and Lyra, and Simon and Paul. Drinking a few beers, snacking and shooting the breeze. Met Innis's daughter Eve for the first time, who was very pleasant and is a bit of a double act with her dad.

Home at around midnight, only for Lorraine and I to discover a dried up frog on the carpet, brought in by one of the cats. And so to bed.

Below, the obligatory interlude shot sponsored by Hagen Das, and Klaudia on the train.









Friday, June 29, 2018

Footie free

The bliss of being able to think and work in peace.  Did some writing outside too, poems, blog posts and admin. Before it got too hot. Cats basking or slinking away from the sun. Sonia in this afternoon, doing her bit for Bulgarian tourism, showing me you tube video of her hometown Veliko Tarnovo. Did some long outstanding admin too, which made me feel good.

Lorraine home, and rather frazzled from the week. The end of the school year is a few weeks away, and as a Lorraine-watcher, I realise this gets to be a real grind. We went to the Preston Park Tavern for a meal. The prices have climbed greatly, and the beer is expensive, but its convenience just trumps it. Weird day with no football. Reading the Philip Roth book, The Anatomy Lesson. Not sure what I feel about it.  Not read Roth before, and his thinly veiled autobiographical stuff is either absurdly indulgent or brilliant. Or both.

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Peace reigns

Another scorcher, and peace reigned in Kenny towers for the first time in what seemed like ages. Drank coffee and wrote poems on the new and beautiful decking, blessing Clem's cotton socks as I did so.  In the afternoon I walked into the big woods above Stanmer Park, right at the edge of town. I followed the path out onto the downs for a bit too. Quite a strong breeze up there too.  Felt peaceful and at one with myself in the woods. I was listening to a new audiobook by Philip Roth, having not read any of his work before. But I soon took my headphones out in the wood, and listened to the wind in the trees. The woodland floor cracked due to the heatwave and drought.

Looking down on Brighton from what seemed afar was good too. I just seem to be in an interlude in my life where I am reappraising everything, and having a mental spring clean, it's easy to spot the things that aren't working in my own practise, but the challenge now is the do things differently.

Home having walked for almost two hours, and then watching the England v Belgium game. England were like old England again, and lost 1-0. However it was a phoney game, as both England and Belgium, who had both already qualified from their group, were playing their second 11s to save their best players for the knockout rounds. As a footie spectacle though it may have been the worst game of the tournament.

Lorraine in need of smoothie, after a difficult day with people being unreasonable. I put it down to the full moon.

Below, high in the downs, the invasion of the black hay bales, nice trees on a large woodland path, and shadows on the cycle path while walking back.





Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Completed

The decking finished today. Clem did a fabulous job. Lots of power tools this morning, so thinking hard. It has been a pleasure having Clem around though, he is a really good bloke so not only do we have new decking, I also know my neighbour, who is very practical and creative much better. Wins all round.

I finished reading The Road To Wigan Pier. Orwell is an excellent and tough minded writer in so many ways.

In the afternoon I moved all the stuff that had been strewn about the garden, which is struggling after the effects of the protracted drought.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

To Hove for Operatic reasons

Clem still hard at it. The job has taken longer than he thought, but we are going to give him a bit more. It is a thing of beauty though, although it does mean that the best part of my concentration, the morning is undermined.

Tom arrived this morning, Lorraine's nephew and one of Ken's sons. He has a job working at Gatwick and will be staying here once in a while. He arrived and pretty much went straight to bed, and after a chat at about five he made off to work again. A nice friendly guy. Interesting how Pat, his grandfather used to be in the RAF and work on aircraft, and Tom does, and Derek in Finland's son Jason is also working with aircraft in the UK too.

In the afternoon, I walked off to Hove for operatic reasons. To see Helen, and listen to the material she'd written. It has been a tough year for her the section she'd been writing was a struggle. The new music sounds very interesting though, and I said the struggle had paid off.

She gave me a bottle of pink wine too, simply to thank me for being her librettist, which was  unexpected and nice. Walked home. The heat wave continuing. Clem with just one or two more bits to do. It got so hot, he simply called it a day early. Luckily his commute is simply next door.

Home and Dawn came around for dinner tonight. In fact she brought much of the food with her, and we had a really good evening chatting with her, some of which was about relationships, what with Dawn being free again.  She is so easy to talk to, and I feel very fond of her. It's nice when your parter's mates become your mates too.

Below a pigeon pitstop in Hove.