Going nowhere

Up early with Lorraine, she was zooming off to do her physical training. I was off to London. Caught the usual 9:24 train from Seaford, changed at Lewes but only got as far as Hateful Heath where we were all turfed out of the train, and left on the platform. By eleven and there was no sign of escape and l people trying to get to Gatwick to catch planes and so on.  

At this point I called Mum and rearranged my visit for Friday. Lorraine, called me, just having finishing her session at nearby Bolney, picked me up and took me to Brighton, and then went on to see Rosie in Hove. 

At London Road, I just missed a Seaford train, half an hour for the next one only went to Newhaven. A bus home arriving at 1am, 3 hours 45 minutes since I left home. Later I went to Seaford Station, and described my morning in such detail to the nice ticket lady, that she gave me my money back so I would stop talking about it.

I did bump into Adam Bushell on the way to Newhaven where he lives.  Adam was the excellent vibraphone player who worked with Matt Pollard and me on This Concert Will Fall In Love With You etc.   Had a good catch up, including children's books, and his family and so on. He works with non-verbal children sometimes, and described the wonderful moment children respond to something with say a beat of a drum. 

I met Janet Caulfield today, the artist who I had chosen as first prize to for her painting Photograph. She told me the piece was a portrait of her granddaughter, and that her grandfather had been a photographer. Her piece was very reasonably priced so I ended up going home with it too, as it chimes very nicely with my writing preoccupations at the moment.

Unable to concentrate this afternoon. Instead bought three tins of pease pudding, a rare commodity these days. I cooked a chilli. And lurked happily at home.  

Below the faces of stranded travellers at Hateful Heath.