Saturday of interludes
Fantastic not to have to get up at an ungodly hour. Instead Lorraine and I saw Dawn at 12:30. For Dawn is going to paint my house for me, and we walked about with Dawn suggesting all the things that needed doing, and me agreeing. Although she repeated her earlier rudeness about the orange yellow highlight I have in my downstairs.
I left Dawny and Lorraine to it, for I had business in the Battle of Trafalgar where I met Richard and Dipak, the Shakeseare Trio, to discuss their CD launch. I offered a degree of unwanted marketing advice and other suggestions. But mainly it was quite pleasant to be sat outside in the hot suntrap of the Batty's back garden for an hour or so. Lorraine joined us after a while too, although sat at another table for a while making phonecalls. Dipak talking about mastering of the tracks and other technical matters. Richard keen to keep gigging but resistant to thinking laterally about the venues they are involved in.
After this was done, Lorraine and I surged back to the house feeling rather tired, before heading off to Eastbourne by train. Sat opposite a boy who told us he had been to the Pride festival and felt sick, and sat glumly opposit us with a plastic bag at the ready. Here we met Lorraine's parents and extended members of Pat's family who had gone to Eastbourne to watch the airshow. We all went off to a Chinese restaurant, walking past a hotel with an iron stag outside it, which Pat and I enjoyed remarking to each other that it looked a bit dear.
Lorraine and I the youngest in the party, which is not something that happens every day, but it was a very jolly evening and the matriarch of the family Joyce who was around 90 made entertainingly ribald comments about sweet and sour chicken balls. She told Lorraine that it was nice to see her again despite the fact 'we didn't have much to say to each other' which struck me as funny. Pat and Maureen back on the train with us to Brighton to stay overnight. We all walked down the hill from the station at London Road, past a man-sized rhinestone flipflop, a souvenir of the Pride festival that had been going on around the corner from the Old Church Hall in Preston Park.
To bed and a night disturbed by nearby parties.
Fantastic not to have to get up at an ungodly hour. Instead Lorraine and I saw Dawn at 12:30. For Dawn is going to paint my house for me, and we walked about with Dawn suggesting all the things that needed doing, and me agreeing. Although she repeated her earlier rudeness about the orange yellow highlight I have in my downstairs.
I left Dawny and Lorraine to it, for I had business in the Battle of Trafalgar where I met Richard and Dipak, the Shakeseare Trio, to discuss their CD launch. I offered a degree of unwanted marketing advice and other suggestions. But mainly it was quite pleasant to be sat outside in the hot suntrap of the Batty's back garden for an hour or so. Lorraine joined us after a while too, although sat at another table for a while making phonecalls. Dipak talking about mastering of the tracks and other technical matters. Richard keen to keep gigging but resistant to thinking laterally about the venues they are involved in.
After this was done, Lorraine and I surged back to the house feeling rather tired, before heading off to Eastbourne by train. Sat opposite a boy who told us he had been to the Pride festival and felt sick, and sat glumly opposit us with a plastic bag at the ready. Here we met Lorraine's parents and extended members of Pat's family who had gone to Eastbourne to watch the airshow. We all went off to a Chinese restaurant, walking past a hotel with an iron stag outside it, which Pat and I enjoyed remarking to each other that it looked a bit dear.
Lorraine and I the youngest in the party, which is not something that happens every day, but it was a very jolly evening and the matriarch of the family Joyce who was around 90 made entertainingly ribald comments about sweet and sour chicken balls. She told Lorraine that it was nice to see her again despite the fact 'we didn't have much to say to each other' which struck me as funny. Pat and Maureen back on the train with us to Brighton to stay overnight. We all walked down the hill from the station at London Road, past a man-sized rhinestone flipflop, a souvenir of the Pride festival that had been going on around the corner from the Old Church Hall in Preston Park.
To bed and a night disturbed by nearby parties.
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