Thursday, June 30, 2016
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Started working on the train at 7:30. A decent journey for once, and I had a seat where I could work, though had to ask the man opposite me to move his computer. I did so extremely politely, he moved it full of wordless anger. Train journey's do not bring out the best in people. Work fine, but draggy. Worked though lunch. Angelically Lorraine collected me from the station, and cooked while I went upstairs to work again. I finished a little after 10. Somewhat dull boyishly went to bed.
Posted by Peter Kenny at 11:00 pm
Monday, June 27, 2016
Lorraine dropped me off at the station this morning, then up to London. Working on my French stuff in the train as it delayed its way up to London. Full day at work, working through lunch. Thank goodness I am working with Fernanda at the moment, which makes the days fairly easy. A moment of respite looking down on the trees of Tavistock Square, talking about photography with her. Mentioned Pete Caton, who was in Chad with me, and he messaged me for the first time every about five minutes after. Very strange.
Then home again, relaxing on the delayed train home. Lorraine had cooked and we had supper together. As I got home England were playing the mighty Iceland, and it was already 1-1. Soon Iceland scored another goal. I worked from there on the French stuff, before coming downstairs to see the final whistle and England's most embarrassing ever loss. Coming after Brexit, the loss of a football came seemed small fry. But there was something in a bewildering loss, the immediate managerial resignation and so on that seemed very familiar. England must have a terrible horoscope at the moment.
The country is reeling. Racist attacks have more than doubled, Johnson, Gove and the vile Farage have disavowed their patently ludicrous pre election promises. Now there a yawning leadership vacuum. Meanwhile the Labour party are trying unsuccessfully to rid itself of the unelectable Corbyn. Meanwhile in places like the Telegraph already blaming the lack of stiff upper lip on the problems of the country. I have never known a time when my country has found itself on such unsteady ground.
Working till 11:30, Lorraine already half asleep, and watching The Great British Sewing Bee on her iPad. Sleep.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
A very slow start to Sunday. A hungover Lorraine needing tea and breakfast in bed. When I finally got up I spoke to mum, who was also lamenting Brexit. Mas has his stent operation next week at the Royal Free, and will be in hospital for a couple of days afterwards. I am hoping to see them next week after work in London.
Working again today too. Chiz. Did some billing, and tried for several hours to work on the French stuff. Brain all over the place though, and no progress made. Strayed into the garden briefly to pick some tayberries and lament the slug infested jungle it has become. Lorraine working today too. In between everything, obsessive reading about the Brexit disaster and its ramifications. Spoke to Janet today, she'd been ill in the week, and I hope to be able to see her next weekend.
Supper with Lorraine, full of vegetable goodness. Got a poetry rejection after several months from Rialto. Tomorrow is another day.
Posted by Peter Kenny at 10:08 pm
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Woke up with a headache. Saturday, but work to be done. Working for mes amis in Paris during the day. Then in the afternoon, a sleep. Messages with the Tobster about Brexit, we feel the same about it. Find myself looking at the news websites, for half-hourly updates, looking at Facebook, my newsfeed full of lamentation and horror, for the majority of my friends were remainers. However hard I look at this news, I cannot find a single positive thing about it. It is the most profound political crisis of my lifetime, and entirely self-inflicted.
If in doubt, drink. So off this evening with Lorraine to The Evening Star, where we met Glen, over from Greece, Richard and Steve. Really nice to see them all, and swig some real ale and catch up on the gossip. Then after an hour and a half off to Reuben and Claire's house for a party. With dancing, Lorraine and I both dancing a good deal, with the Turners, Reuben, Claire and Japhy spinning some rather good tunes. Reuben gave Lorraine several Reubentinis, made of cassis, vodka and prosecco. We walked home with our top hats askew very late. Some anguished chat about the Brexit with folks, but mainly simply a good time. Dancing helps.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Woke up feeling better than I had done all week, and so was able to go to work. An unrealistically gorgeous sunny day. At this point the day turned into a paranoid Philip K Dick novel. Or that short story by Ray Bradbury A Sound of Thunder when a time traveller steps on a butterfly and on returning to the present, finds that the sinister Deutsche has won the presidential election. A day imbued with a feeling of nightmarish unreality.
Although I had gone to sleep to predictions of a narrow remain vote victory, the Brexit vote resulted in a narrow victory for the leave campaign. This is the darkest day I have ever experienced politically. As the stock markets and pound plunged, my phone peeped and the news of Cameron's resignation came through on my Guardian app. My involuntary swear, meant I told the people around me, maybe because the train was from Brighton (a bastion of remain) that everyone sighed. Amazing that a Prime Minister's resignation is just a footnote to a day of historical disaster.
The young bloke next to me said the BBC site had crashed. When I got to the agency, everyone was shellshocked. London voted convincingly for remain too. But then the agency is full of young people who this madness will hurt more than anyone. To take one case, Fernanda (who is Brazilian) is just about to buy a house, and plunged into worry about whether this is the right thing to do now.
The working day went quite well, however, and I managed to make up lost ground from yesterday. My brain working at last having been in some kind of cold storage all day. Train home, after absorbing all the dire news and looking at the bewildered and angry Facebook stream. Brexiteer friends on my timeline remaining very quiet about from a bit some self-righteous stuff about accepting the majority decision. The motivation for the leavers seems to have been around migration, as xenophobia and racism were stirred up shamelessly by the leave campaign. Keep thinking of 1930s Germany and how joke candidates nobody would take seriously suddenly become our leaders. We are a few steps away from this. Meanwhile Labour leader Corbyn has shown himself to be spectacularly inept and weak. He must go too.
So back home to Lorraine, very pleased to be with her tonight of all nights. To the Preston Park Tavern for a bite to eat and some beer, before we sloped home to an uncertain future.
Feeling really rough this morning, aching body, very tired and sore throated but dragged myself out of bed. Lorraine gave me a lift to the station, only to find the usual train chaos, now exacerbated by flooding from unusually heavy thunderstorms. My train, when it came, was standing room only. By then I had realised I was feeling too unwell to stand all the way to London. The next train was delayed by half an hour. Had a bit of a crisis of indecision on the platform. It is no good for a freelancer to be sick. But by then I was feeling so ill I simply dragged back up the hill and spent the day on the sofa feeling feverish and unwell. But doing some lines and sending them off to Fernanda, and talking to my lovely Parisienne clients who briefed me on the work I must do over the weekend.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Lorraine back from pilates, a spot of chicken and salad with new potatoes, then the pair of us repaired rapidly to bed.
Monday, June 20, 2016
No brief however, so spent the morning idling a bit. Managed to follow up on Island Review about my poem, which they accepted about a year ago. Their reply to me must have gone astray, and rather embarrassingly they had published it last week. Nice to see The Remembering Cliffs get a breath of air again. I was trying to remember when I wrote it. My first estimates were around 1989, but I actually think it was a few years before this. I still like this poem very much.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Heard from Mum today that Mason has been released back into the wild for a while, before he starts his operations in a week or so. Must be great to be at home after being in a Kafkaesque limbo for so long.
Up fairly early this morning as Lorraine had a hair appointment. I went off to the gym (pausing at the Brighton Tavern to hand back a Stars and Stripes that Lorraine borrowed for a Beth performance) where I did manly sweaty things for some time, and had a shower there. Then to the Starbucks to work for a bit. Starbucks is reprehensible for all kinds of reasons, but it is the place I find easiest to work in. Then I met up with a sleek haired Lorraine and soon we jumped on a bus to Fiveways where Lorraine was drawn like a bee to a flower to the shop called Preloved, a posh second hand shop full of designer ladies clothes. They sat me down and Lorraine ended up buying four items. Rather good stuff there.
The rest of the afternoon rather slothful, before we roused ourselves to go out to meet Anton in the Joker for some beer and woof woof wings, Lorraine had originals. I found my woof woofs rather intense and burny tonight. Saw photographs of his walking tour, and generally caught up. Good to lap up some beers with Anton though. Home quite early.
Friday, June 17, 2016
The Tobster's birthday today. Messaged him before he went off to school. Looking forward to having a meatspace beer or two with him in the Summer. Spoke to Mum, who was going to have her first day of not visiting Mason, and doing something different. She needs a break.
I spent the day being mildly thwarted, but feeling quite cheerful. Went into town to try to get my watch strap replaced. Replacing the strap involves sending it back to Skagen the manufacturers, and will take a month. I raged at this and went to another jewellers, and found it to be the same story there. I randomly spotted a beautiful leaf green pair of shoes, which looked great, were cheap, but felt abominable on. I then went into the EE shop to see if a new phone was due, but I have a month to wait on that.
I ended up in Starbucks, hoping to do some of my own work, but I was contacted about the rabid dogs several times. I had to rewrite some copy which was found to be too hard hitting, and another place where the client was unable to understand a simple English word. I also wrote a post on Facebook about the Brexit vote, and narcissistically checked it during the day as it garnered dozens of likes.
No creative writing at all for a few weeks now, other than a scrap of dialogue I wrote on a train for the Christmas play I am writing which will go with A Glass of Nothing as a Christmas show in Brighton somewhere. Play to be written, venue to be arranged and so on.
As I decided to leave Starbucks a vigorous thunderstorm broke out. When it had settled down to strong rain, I made a scarper for it and bussed home.
Later I spent a happy couple of hours in the Preston Park Tavern with Lorraine, home fairly early from work for once, and Betty back from Beastbourne. Nice to have time to talk to Lorraine and do all the talking we missed out on during the week due to tiredness. And then joined by Betty. Home, and Beth melting away to watch Orange is the New Black. I watched some football game (Spain I think, but they are beginning to blur) and Lorraine fell heavily asleep on the sofa before I shepherded her off to bed.
Thursday, June 16, 2016
A day of two halves. The morning industrious, writing to Telltale people, going to the gym and having quite a good workout, shopping, laundry, tightening a screw on the shower and other mundanities. Enjoyed being in the gym, and had a good sweaty session.
The second half was slothful. Home and consumed some defrosted bean jar, and then watched England v Wales with Beth who had come back from work. It was a good game, of two halves, that England luckily won.
Lorraine and Beth both out tonight, and I gave into sloth and did little, until Lorraine got home tired and we shuffled off to bed.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Blearily looked at phone app and saw my train was cancelled. A wild scramble, and Lorraine giving me a lift to the station allowed me to get the early one, in time to buy a cup of tea from the jazz listening guy and his mobile tea and coffee stall outside Preston Park. A litany of cancellations, and just before the one train came a burst of recorded stuff about suspicious packages. I laughed about this and said something to the woman standing next to me, but was ignored. Commuting, eh?
To Turnham Green early. Too early, so I paused and had a cup of tea, served in a china cup and saucer and a pot, from the cafe next to the agency. Also a ham and cheese croissant. Enjoyably middle class. Spent the morning working cheerily with Bei Li and Jo and the others. Easy and pleasant working with Bei again. Then was released back into the wild. Very happy to be released in the afternoon and to return home. There was a meeting to do with Telltale at lunch, but I wasn't able to make that.
Spoke to Mum who said that the latest on Mason was he was having a stent put in his neck as the first step, and there would be a decision on Friday. There have been such announcements but they keep being put back. He will have been in hospital for a month now, and is utterly bored apart from anything else.
Home, early. Walking back through Preston Park from Brighton Station. Loving the walk between trees, and filled with a fleeting appreciation of the niceness of things.
I have many things to catch up with, and I start another job up in Tavistock Square next Monday, I simply idled when I got home. Lorraine back from pilates, and Beth with her foot strapped up by the foot specialist, to help with her plantar fasciitis. After watching some football, (the ladies in the house resigned to this and sit quietly with their faces lit up by their iPads). Spoke to a yawning Mum. Then before bed Lorraine and I listened to My Teenage Diary podcast, where the presenter gets people to read and explain bits from their teenage diaries. This week it was Michael Rosen, and he was very funny.