An evening with Ken and Janet
Working on Guernsey poems today, and I am planning a scoot over to my beloved island later this month (which is gripped in snow today) to see Richard and Jane to talk about our poetry project. Also tinkering with some new poems about the island. It's time to change up a gear with the Guernsey stuff I'm doing. To the gym. A few folks in the virtuous first flush of January. I waddled about for half an hour or so and, if nothing else, felt much warmer.
Supper at Janet and Ken's house. I met Lorraine there. Janet showing us some very good work she is doing with fabrics. She has taken a big step forward. Her latest piece features Canadian rain forest, which Lorraine loved right away due to tree hugging tendencies, and reminded me of the Canadian art I was loving so much last time I went to the Art Gallery of Ontario.
The answer to my French malaise was also staring me in the face. Ken is one of those annoying people who can get by in a dozen languages. He has finished a vast project of translating letters written in eighteenth century French. Ken is saying that he will be 80 this year (in November), which is hard to credit. He is a shining example of how keeping an agile brainbox is good for you.
Among other things Janet served a wonderful homemade tiramisu, which became a sudden contender for the list of allowable puddings, currently limited to the holy trinity of bread and butter pudding, apple pie and lemon meringue.
While we indoors eating and chatting, the slushy rain had turned to snow, and Lorraine slithered me down the hill to my Twitten before driving gingerly home. All about Brighton begining to grind to a halt like the rest of England under a few inches of snow.
Working on Guernsey poems today, and I am planning a scoot over to my beloved island later this month (which is gripped in snow today) to see Richard and Jane to talk about our poetry project. Also tinkering with some new poems about the island. It's time to change up a gear with the Guernsey stuff I'm doing. To the gym. A few folks in the virtuous first flush of January. I waddled about for half an hour or so and, if nothing else, felt much warmer.
Supper at Janet and Ken's house. I met Lorraine there. Janet showing us some very good work she is doing with fabrics. She has taken a big step forward. Her latest piece features Canadian rain forest, which Lorraine loved right away due to tree hugging tendencies, and reminded me of the Canadian art I was loving so much last time I went to the Art Gallery of Ontario.
The answer to my French malaise was also staring me in the face. Ken is one of those annoying people who can get by in a dozen languages. He has finished a vast project of translating letters written in eighteenth century French. Ken is saying that he will be 80 this year (in November), which is hard to credit. He is a shining example of how keeping an agile brainbox is good for you.
Among other things Janet served a wonderful homemade tiramisu, which became a sudden contender for the list of allowable puddings, currently limited to the holy trinity of bread and butter pudding, apple pie and lemon meringue.
While we indoors eating and chatting, the slushy rain had turned to snow, and Lorraine slithered me down the hill to my Twitten before driving gingerly home. All about Brighton begining to grind to a halt like the rest of England under a few inches of snow.
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