Mending Tickers

Woke up early and read a message from Katie, now ensconced at Ian's house. She has had a horrid time, but is on the mend now I hope.

A productive morning. Lorraine surged out to her personal trainer. I was able to choose some photos that didn't make me look like a Weimar Republic sex murderer from the shots Innis had taken. Also began drafting emails to a few people I'm asking for a couple of sentences for the book jacket of One Day Forever.  Not sent them yet, but the cringe is real. Hello... Peter Kenny here. I know we don't really know one another all that well, but will you tell people I'm fabulous? Thanks. 

To Brighton this afternoon, to spend time with Anton over a game or two of bones. He was at The Bier Haus on the Kemptown side, which he can bus to on a number 7, and in decent spirits. He is awaiting a date for the valve operation with mixed feelings. Otherwise he was armed with his book on horology, Practical Watch Repairing, by Donald De Carle, written in a clipped, highly factual 1946 style, it's taking ages to read, and has 553 exhaustive diagrams too. I enjoyed sitting in the pub and sunshine on the street outside, and the mellow summery music playing in the bar. We nursed judiciously small helles beers in the Indian Summer. Fond farewells and, for me, a slow but free ride home on the coastal road due to pesky roadworks.

Lorraine out at pottery, but returned with a small dinosaur, a cup and a plate. All well.