Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Backstreet Picasso

Brain in a fog first thing, but this soon dispelled. Had talked to Toby about Equador and other things the night before, and had a curiously bad night and woke up having had a vivid dream about doing parkour down over a series of tiered gardens, and ending up talking to Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, about transport. I told him that transport should be free in our capital.

Anyway, a very good day. Zoomed through my list of must-dos. Solved I hope the Gracenote problem (the similar track names confused them), completed the agreement to sell CDs online and via iTunes, dropped posters off at the Sussex Beacon shops, posted sample CDs, talked to Cem who may be able to swing some coverage in the Brighton Argus, sent more invites, talked to Matt, went to the bank, lurked briefly by the sea in the cold in one or two fine motes of snow and agreed to do some copywriting on Thursday.

Cooked a turkey curry and forked it down happily with Lorraine, who has a bad throat and a cold. She then worked on the sofa till ten, and I read Charlotte Grey by Sebastian Faulks and looked at pictures by Roger Dean before it was time for football on TV. Another lamentable performance by Chelsea.

Below the pier looking rather forlorn in the grey. Particularly like this poster of Picasso down an unappetising backstreet.

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