Slumdog Millionaire After a nice kipper breakfast, Lorraine and I drove off to Maidenhead Aquatics to buy some aquarium gravel. Lots of intriguing new stock in, and I noticed a nice tankful of traditional red wagtail platys with nice erect fins, we scored a pair for Beth not mentioning that we had been gulping distant cousins for breakfast. Also managed to atone for my bad Godfathering, with some Barbie based products. Not been in Toys R Us since I was in the US, and it was much easier than pre-Christmas. I bought Klaudia a Barbie winged horse, and stable accessory set, having consulted Anna by phone. And Lorraine bought her some Barbie dressing up shoes. Nosebleed inducing cheery music. Lorraine and I were also looking for Sylvanian Families (some species of mouse-based toy) but these must have been very popular and were completely sold out. Bumped into one of Lorraine's neighbours called Steve who was hunting a sled with his daughter, to enjoy the snow we're supposedly about
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And finally Managed to do some great work on my Skelton Yawngrave book this afternoon. Really happy that I have streamlined the opening few pages now. And so nice to type using a proper keyboard. In the evening walked up to Lorraine's house where I had supper with her and Beth and Mark. Really enjoyed this. Mark is a very nice young man and I really like his confidence and warmth. I am getting on well with Beth these days too, which is a nice thing. Lorraine and I snuck off for a fast beer in the Dyke Tavern near where she lives. It looks rubbish from the outside, but I wanted to check. Turns out first impressions were justified. It is the most unfriendly seeming pub I've been into in Brighton by a country mile. Made me think of boozers Carl and I used to drink in around Wembley when we were young. Lorraine pointed out that the beer was badly kept too. Back to Lorraine's place pronto having scored twiglets and a few cans of Friday beer for a TV fest.
Widescreen At last my new desktop with a big screen has been delivered. It is fantastic. I can type without the orc hunch. Twenty one and a half inches of widescreen wonder. I love it. And a proper keyboard and mouse too. Having only used laptops for the last several years, it's wonderful. And full of geeky new functions to explore. No need for the outside world at all then. Just my study, redbush tea, my face basking happily in the electric glow. Calliope, meanwhile exhausted herself in an ecstasy of boxes - which all needed biting. I'm feeling a little more lively today. Lorraine now has the same heavy legged bug that I have. She'll have to fight her way to work tomorrow. I am so incredibly lucky to be master of my own workflow at times like this. Instead I was able to finish The Reader and work at an unstressed pace.
The listener Still feeling somewhat drained and rubbish. Listened to the unabridged audiobook of The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. The character Hannah loves to be read to, and so it was apt. I really like the book, just as I did the film. Schlink is a professor for public law and the philosophy of law, and sometimes works as a judge. And his expertise informs this fascinating work about post war Germany and its moral dilemmas, which among other things is also is a story of doomed love. Otherwise a rather wasted day. Bug making me feel tetchy, and lacking motivation. Spoke to Anton who phoned to crow intolerably about Manchester United again. And to Bob who phoned to talk about Carl's visit. And finalised with On Track arrangements for an interview next week, and emailed Betsy. Lorraine came by again tonight, for cups of tea before collecting Beth after she had seen a musical in London. On that tremulous note I have decided to see Sweeney Todd, starring young Beth and Mark. I might
Midgets Saw a perky Carl off to the station to begin his long journey back to Runcorn. It had been great to see him despite all the hospital stuff. Returning home I realised I had a temperature. Decide to postpone my trip to London tomorrow, made a few calls, then drifted in and out of feverish dreams all afternoon. A vivid David Lynch style dream where I witnessed a tiny car overtaking a mini, only to crash into some traffic lights. I was first on the scene, and found the tiny car to be full of repulsive midgets. Betsy called and we may do some more work next week, which will be fun. She sent me a poem and a picture she'd done. Both rather good. Spoke to the folks at On Track. I may have an interview with a well known actor comedian in the pipeline, a refreshing change from sustainability gurus. Lorraine called by briefly this evening and we ate some companionable Chinese grub together. Then I sloped off early to bed.
Carl released back into the wild Looking at the Skeletons stuff this morning, and doing some pieces of admin. Spoke to Anton to be reminded that I had forgotten Klaudia's birthday. D'oh. What kind of a Godfather am I? In the afternoon, after a sustaining cup of miso soup off to the hospital. Carl in much better spirits, and looking well and with his pain managed. The antibiotics seem to have done their job, and the nurses inexplicably had metamorphosed into being nice nurses. After several hours of us larking about and generally talking about old times, he was given the all clear to clear off. We got a bus home, and Bob called while we were in it. Spent a cheery evening listening to music and drinking red bush tea and decaffinated coffee (Carl is a notorious insomniac) before a wave of tiredness hit me fairly early, and I headed for bed leaving Carl to do logic puzzles and read the Vic Reeves "Me Moir" book. While at the hospital I was called by the The Cat with the H
Hospital time Deep sleep, only woken by the persistent kitten at 8:30. Lorraine and I got up eventually, after the kitten had been banished, to consume fried tomatoes on toast, and listen to the iPod randomiser while she did strange sewing of wollen squares for a baby blanket. Then I went off to the hopital again on the bus, in the teeming rain. Carl wasn't in his old bed, so I embarked on a Kafkaesque journey through various corridors, and going up to the wrong floors and so on. Eventually I arrived at what I was convinced was Carl's new ward, where they claimed to have no record of him. He has previous on discharging himself, so it did cross my mind that he had absconded. Eventually someone found him for me. In a small room with no window or picture. Brighton has a thousand painters in it, so amazing to see so many dull walls without ornamentation in the hospital. Carl bored, but unable to concentrate enough to read. Hospital time passes so slowly - what seems like hours turn
The Galling of Carl Was woken from my sleep by the sound of Carl tossing and turning in the next room. Calliope was in there repeatedly standing on Carl's head too which didn't help. At 4pm I could hear Carl groaning, and asked him if he was alright. Turns out he wasn't alright at all. He was in excruciating agony - and having pains in his stomach and chest. Got up and called the ambulance right away, struggling into my trousers as I talked to the emergency call handler. He was asking me if he was still breathing and so on. Carl was able to talk but was looking ashen, and very poor. The paramedics arrived fairly quickly and shortly after we went off to the ambulance at the end of the Twitten. Carl in absolute agony. There were lots of questions, and after he was jabbed with a rather agricultural needle in the arm was given some morphine. Fairly quickly, once they'd hooked him up, much to our relief it became clear that he wasn't having another heart attack. Carl muc
Carl arrives A big day today. Carl coming down from Runcorn to stay. I'd not seen him for about six years, which is an inexcusably long time. Spent the day doing a bit of business admin, and making some last changes to my play and to the submission form. Will find out next week what they think. In my mind it is no more than a lottery ticket, but you've got to be in it to win it as they say. But I'm not building my hopes up too high. Rushing about this morning getting everything done. Walked down the long bit of my Twitten to get a pastie for lunch, and was inexplicably tripped. Between my feet was Calliope who'd followed me for 100 yards, and was looking at me purring. A man came out of his house, and I looked like the worst kind of monster, berating and shooing home a little cat. Met Carl at the station, and it was great to see him. I'd not seen Carl, whose been one of my best friends since I was 15, for six years but it was as if we'd only seen each other las
Chap Hop, Poets, and MCs A brisk walk back from Lorraine's first thing. And in between dealing with my exceptionally fighty kitten, I finished the play. You have to fill in forms afterwards too, to send off with your submission. Form filling, as any fule no is not my strong point. But have done my best, and managed to complete it by 6:00pm. In the evening off to see Poets vs MCs, a yearly "battle" at the Komedia. Was amazed to see a big queue stretching out into the street for the event.Great to see, and inside there was a wonderful buzzy atmosphere. I loved the warm-up act. Someone called Mr B playing Chap Hop in which his Edwardian posh voice, accompanying himself with banjo and hip hop tapes. Particularly enjoyed Timmy a song about being in prep school with Tim Westwood (a white Vicar's son turned leading hip hop DJ, who hosts the laughable UK version of the Pimp my Ride show). According to his My Space page he is "on a one-man mission to introduce Hip-Hop t
Off the streets Up early as I am close to finishing The Sick Day. It has turned out quite neatly. Broadly it's about the death of a hypochondriac interspersed with spoof of real adverts for imaginary medical conditions such as slower digestive transit from the activa ads. And at the end it is revealed that the whole play has been an advert for death, which is being re-branded to be more positive and uplifting, with a new name: Better Forever! But I'm hoping the play works on a few levels. Oh well. It's kept me off the streets. In the afternoon: a bold move. I sold some of my books to a second hand store. I have finite space and many hundreds of books: loads of them I've not read for twenty years. I took some big volumes of poetry by poets I don't like. Felt a bit weird, as selling your books is a short step away from book burning and joining the Nazi party. The ones I couldn't sell I gave to Oxfam. But I'm loving the extra room, and that my poetry collect
Barak Obama Barak Obama's ascendancy to president brought more than one tear to my eye this afternoon. The US has taken one massive step towards reclaiming its moral authority, and repairing the damage done to its image in the world. Of course being the first black president makes Obama's presidency even more poignant and I guess lots of people in the US are pinching themselves and asking if this this really happening. The yes we can , has become to yes we have. For many it must already seem absurd that the election of black person was considered impossible. With even a few hours hindsight, the river of history that was crossed today, can at last be seen for what it is: an illusion; a little ditch. Of course a black man can be president. Seeing the abject Bush - and the noxious band he had gathered about him - slinking off to the dustbin of history seemed to me like the end of a bewitchment. Like some kind of Narnia, the US was today released from a spell; from being a place w
Blue Monday The most miserable day of the year according to psychologists . As I rushed to get ready, the cat knocked over several things in my bathroom and then fell into the (thankfully just flushed) toilet. I felt cheery enough, although of course a rainy grey Monday morning in January, aboard a creepingly delayed train to Victoria didn't exactly get the pulses racing. Surgical site infections with Betsy and Hannah today was fine, however, and I like everyone I've met at that agency so far. Watched the share prices of banks plummeting today. My understanding of these things not great, but it contributes to a sense of instability and unease. Obama is inaugurated tomorrow, which seems to be a really hopeful thing. Curses! My desktop order has been thwarted. NatWest stopped my credit card payment to Dell as a precaution, as it was an Internet deal. So I have to reorder the bloody thing. Fairly fuming over this. Ordering a Dell computer isn't such a strange transaction is it
Unwebbing Sunday promenade along the seafront in fresh air. The sun occasionally picked out the bright pinks and oranges and reds and greens and blues of the beach hut doors. Or it dramatised a patch of the pebbly beach, or made the wave foam shine. Lighting is everything. Event though I still don't regard it as proper sea (which is Channel Island sea) the flat uninterrupted line of the Brighton horizon is a lovely contrast to the busy city, and the remains of the burnt pier only seems to make the space bigger and emptier. Stepping along the seafront allows your spirit to inhale. It was hard not to feel uplifted watching the seagulls in the face-numbing wind. Made me think of my Grandmother saying that the wind blows the cobwebs away. Stopped by a groyne and scrunched onto the beach to shelter from the wind, smelling the sea which Lorraine said reminded her of childhood, and we watched a boy dancing in an out of the waves in his boots and coat, totally absorbed in what he was doing
Morning brainwave Up fairly early in a beautiful sunny morning, after a waking brainwave about The Sick Day . Made more progress in an hour or so this morning, than in the whole of Friday. Read a horoscope somewhere for Librans saying it would be a brilliant year for artistic breakthroughs, which would be splendidly timed. Got an email from Maria Rivans , the collage artist. I am on her early mailing list now and intend to buy some of her work after I've got over the shock of ordering a new computer. Then made Lorraine and I an enormous mass of mushrooms cooked in butter and sage, tomatoes, toast, eggs, bacon and beans. Lorraine off to the back crackers, then I worked for a little more, and chatted to Anton who had called to discuss our next walk, and mention Manchester United severally. After four years I replacing the dodgy light switch in the bathroom; thanks to Lorraine's supervision (which included a call to her ex-electrician dad). Later plunged into the Laines and bought
Slug day Slugged down to my gold sofa, where I lay like a vast invertebrate doing a little website work for the pharma company, and writing more of The Sick Day . Later, and still without moving I threw caution to the wind, and bought a new desktop computer from Dell. Lorraine called round in the evening and coaxed me into the outside world. In this vast strange place we had a cheeky drink in the Cricketers before going to our usual curry house. Then home, through the smatterings of frighteningly young drunks, to dormant slug mode.
Old friends in the new Blue Anchor Bumped into Paula at Victoria this morning, off to see a client with Juliette. Nice to get a big hug in the middle of the rat race, and it got the day off to a nice start. I was in London for another day with Betsy working on the wound infections. We work really well together, and she has that nice American open friendliness. We had a nice lunch of panninis and fruit smoothies in a nearby cafe. Interesting brainstorming session this afternoon with Betsy and a very good young Australian designer called Simon. I'll be going in for another day next week, which is fun. After work to the Blue Anchor for a drink with Matty boy and the French Bloke. Betsy also popped by for a glass of water, before going off to a singing lesson. The Blue Anchor has been redesigned and changed since I was last there and, unusually, they have done quite a nice job with it, which has resulted in it getting busier. Matt and the FB both contagiously positive about the new ye
Cat burglars and playwrights Calliope presented me with a woman's white wool glove this morning as I was working on the The Sick Day . Later I noticed her with a pair of my socks in her mouth, followed by the snick of the catflap. Calliope returned some time later, empty mouthed. I searched in vain for a sock nest in my yard and suspect her of trading socks for gloves in some cat cartel. The morning was spent happily writing, and in the afternoon I met a new friend Randolph for coffee. He is an American playwright - and it was fascinating to talk to him for two and a half hours over a single americano. Nice to discuss writerly matters, and hear about his plays. Randolph's wife writes academic books, and said "what shall I do now then, wait to die?" after getting a rejection this week. This made me laugh. Randolph's play Only Free Men was on at the Brighton's Komedia last year, and will be on in Lewes this year. He told me he is also working on a new play abou
Rejection made easy Feeling non-specifically coldy and run down, which happened to be handy as I am working on The Sick Day the short play competition entry I am writing about the death of a hypochondriac. Hypochondria, I'm beginning to think, is a good metaphor for the loss of confidence being experienced in the financial markets around the world too. Institutions are losing confidence in their continued existence, in the way a hypochondriac begins to believe that he or she is holding onto life by their fingernails. Went to the gym for half an hour or so of lumbering on the treadmill and pulling and pushing heavy things. They should wire all of these weight machines up to generate power. Returned home to receive a rejection from a poetry magazine. I'm very philosophical about rejections these days. It is essential if you are to prevent yourself from peering at editors through telescopic sites from a city rooftop. You have to separate what you make, from who you are. J-P Sartre
Sorry son, change of plan Up fairly early, and working on The Sick Day , I only have this week and next week to complete the first draft, so I'm just going hell for leather for it. For various reasons it made me read the bit in Genesis about Abraham being prepared to sacrifice Isaac as a test of his obedience to God. This strange story is the starting point for Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling , which I once sped read, and have almost no recollection of. Kierkegaard often has good titles. I am going to read it again this week, simply because I can. I always felt sorry for Isaac in the Bible, being told that God would provide an animal for the sacrifice, and then at the last moment his dad Abraham saying, "Er. Sorry son, change of plan". And then "Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son". Luckily an angel appears, but it must have been a nasty moment for the lad. When not thinking about hypochondria and black comedy and the Book
DIY Practical Sunday. Helped Lorraine take a manky carpet to the recycling plant, God knows what her last lodger had been doing on it. And we wandered about a couple of DIY stores, where there was a good sale on and I bought some shelves, light shades, a cushion, and an autumnal coloured candle because it matched my living room. This may be the first time I have bought a decorative candle for myself, and finding myself excited in Homebase is new too. Lorraine also on a spending spree, and bought two nice kitchen stools at a knock down price and we came away very pleased with ourselves. Then to Brighton Marina where Lorraine and I had a surprisingly nice Italian meal in Zizzi's while her car was being cleaned. No drama, as this time Lorraine had not put the wrong petrol in the car so there was no sudden car death in the car wash queue. This time, however, Lorraine had to leave the restaurant half way through her main course to pay for the wash. I was anxiously approached by the wait
Cats, forests and tittles Lorraine drove us to the vet with three disgruntled, and vocal cats for various check ups. The vet now thinks Calliope is two weeks younger than first thought. She still teething, which has made her glands swell up, and put her off her food, which is what had concerned me. The waiting room is infused with relaxing cat pheromones, so Calliope swanked about investigating the waiting room and store room, while Lorraine's cats were given jabs. The receptionist/veterinary nurse is very friendly, and locked the front door so she could safely explore. She returned slightly cobwebbed from under a large fridge, and I was told that if she wanted employment as a duster, she could come again. In the afternoon drove north to St Leonard's forest with Anton. The temperature was a couple of degrees colder than in Brighton, and the trees and fields were rimed with frost as soon as we had got through the downs. Parked at The Dragon in St Leonard's Forest (where we h
The rain rains in its own time So up early feeling very cheerful today. Lorraine zoomed off to the station having had a sleepover. Got an email from Catriona in Guernsey with a pdf of my Guernsey bus poem, which I might have printed up full size as a poster. Satisfying to see this thing I wrote when I was about 22, more than half a lifetime ago, being given an airing. I've always liked this little poem for the simplicity of its language, and that it is about returning to a specific place I love. And of course seeing your name in print is something I can never tire of. Something from the I Ching that has always resonated with me, I don't have the exact words to hand, but it is: "the clouds are all here, but the rain rains in its own time." This can mean the time you create something isn't necessarily the same time as it will be appreciated. Working on the play competition entry. Given that I've been working on illnesses for the last three months, I decided to
Getting it right Up with a song on my lips. It is worth doing a couple of days travelling into London to remind me of the glories of working from home. Danced past sullen commuters streaming into the station, to do a spot of food shopping before work. The last of the big website today - a few hours or so of referencing my case studies on a smorgasbord of morbidities, and making up ages for the ailing people I'd invented. I managed to do this from the comfort of my sofa and without foam leaking from my mouth, and only getting up twenty times to teach Calliope to use the newly magnetic cat flap. Finishing website stuff (although never say never etc.) was great, like the last Groundhog Day when everything goes right. In the evening, assembled a base for my aquarium. Now to decide where to situate the tank; for of course once you set it up, you have to keep it there. Then a big tidy up. Amazing how two days of being out of the house from 7am till 10pm can reduce order to despicable cha
Bookended by socks Noticed when I woke up that Calliope had overnight removed all the balled sock pairs from my sock draw and carried them to my bed, which was handy. If I can train her to bring me just one pair this could be useful. Out into a smattering of snowflakes in the twitten, and up to London for another day with Betsy on the surgical wound business. Lots more bumping into old friends, including Al who was very huggy and pleased to see me, which was nice. Matty boy was there too, having just started a big strategy role in Betsy's agency. After work I went to the bar and chatted with Benny the barman who gave me free crisps and, as an Iranian exile, explained how Hammas have shit for brains. I was joined by Matty and Betsy who I introduced to one another, and we had a quick drink. Matty enjoying his new start I think, and he will do exceptionally well in what seems like a pleasant little agency. Got the tube with Betsy, and discovered we had both flirted with Marxism in our
Howdy ho London To London today. The train draggingly slow through the snow-dusted fields to Victoria. I caught up on various podcasts, and yawned a good deal as I had accidentally gone to bed late, and an intruding black cat caused alarms in the night. Calliope, with me following, chased the larger intruder out, the same one she was biffing in the yard recently. I means I will have to put the magnet on Calliope's collar and use the magnetic catflap to exclude intruders. Working today in Hammersmith with Betsy for a specialist healthcare agency. Betsy is an American art director, with a good visual imagination - and we make each other laugh despite working on concepts for a healthcare product that helps to prevent surgical site infections, or SSIs as they are known in the trade. In the afternoon we were joined by Hannah a medical expert writer, who thoughtfully showed us photographs of inflamed surgical site wounds. Betsy was jetlagged, and I was a bit braindead, so it was hard wor
The last bauble in the bag Today was the big Monday of the year. I however woke to a coverlet of snow in the Twitten and a purring kitten, and feeling lucky and privileged to be working from home. Not having to struggle off to London on the train is ace. Later I got a text from Beth who was thinking of Calliope's first experience of snow. The kitten herself, however, was generally disdainful of it. Slid off to the quack first thing. Then back home to write nine more case studies on unpleasant ailments - I learned more about Ulcerative Colitis than I ever wanted to know. Wonderfully, however, the website folks have paid my invoice: Calliope and me will eat for some months! And fortunately not each other. I had a dream a few days ago about a person called Barcelona Katz. I am usually good at understanding my own dreams, but Barcelona Katz has got me stumped. Unless it is yet another blinking cat reference. After this off to the gym at 6:30, which was unbelievably crowded with people
Into the frosty fields Scarfed a fast bowl of porridge, then strapped myself into my walking boots. Anton called for me, and we went by train to Hassocks station, spotting rust-coloured foxes against the frosty fields as the train passed. From Hassocks we walked south and then east along lanes and across fields following the line of the Downs for our first, if rather gentle, walk of the new year. It was a cold day for Sussex: puddles and little ponds and streams were glassy with ice, and the horses in the fields were wearing coats. Anton and I were warm enough as long as we kept moving: ambling along the route of an old Roman road and chatting about lots of random things from the Beatles to the Romans to bean based recipes as we went. After a couple of hours we reached a little village called Streat, which had an idyllic churchyard, with eccentric gravestones splotched with lichen. A splendid place to stop for a feed, looking out from the church across the weald to the line of Downs. A
The Reader Saw The Reader tonight with Lorraine. Easily the best film I've seen for ages. Absolutely top in every way: brilliantly acted, and a complex moral problem at its heart. I can't recommend it highly enough. It's ages since I walked out of a cinema and felt I had seen a proper grown up movie. If Kate Winslet doesn't get an Oscar for her performance there is no justice.
Progtastic A quiet day working. Wrote nine case studies for the hogsite, and then fiddled about working on an idea for a local Brighton play competition, which was fun. However highlight of the day for me was watching BBC4 Prog Rock Britannia which was a well overdue reappraisal of this genre. Great to see legends like Bill Bruford and Steve Howe. And listen to some fascinating stuff that I'd never heard before. Who knew that Soft Machine sounded like outtakes from Bitches Brew ? In my teens I particularly liked Yes and King Crimson. This, plus the fact that Mum listened to jazz and classical music rather ruined me for straight ahead rock music or for most stuff with a predictable 4/4 beat and chords. Progressive music was killed by punk. I liked punk too, its energy was amazing, but musically I can't listen to it with anything other than a faint nostalgia. Even at the time my favourite new groups were the elegant Television (from New York) and The Stranglers (who were a bit
Free from desire The new year sees me feeling pleasingly Buddhist about things. I'm not fixated on outcomes - the idea that you'll only be happy if x happens. My fervent hope is that I can just continue what I've been doing for another year. My resolutions are few: simply to focus on the work at hand, and to be the best Peter Kenny I can be. After travelling back from London, I was still Lemsipping and snuffling. I decided to at least go, with Lorraine, to Battle of Trafalgar. This is, after all, is but a spit away. There I bumped into two of my neighbours, Mark and Hilary. I've never properly spoken to them before, but it turns out they are both extremely nice. Mark is an accomplished trombonist I've often heard rehearsing, and Hilary a teacher, who often teaches music. We all seemed to have quite a bit to say to one another. Time slipped past and the new year stole upon us over a pint of Harvey's bitter. And nothing wrong with that. New Year's day was spen