under another sun

So day two of a four day long weekend, all thanks to the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. This being June, and England in drought, it rained steadily on the flotilla of boats drifting soggily down the Thames and it was unseasonally cold. The Queen, I felt, looked understandably glum, the flypast of historic planes had to be cancelled, and the BBC's coverage of the event and of the hordes waving their sodden Union Flags was poor. Watching singers, hair plastered to their heads, bobbing on a boat on the muddy grey water belting out Land of Hope and Glory did make me think that our true National treasure is comedy. Rather conflicted by this Jubilee stuff as I am not a royalist and loath the idea of inherited privilege, but I also have a curious admiration for the Queen. Though after she goes, what's left is shite and onions. Meanwhile my ankle which had been causing me a degree of gyp throughout the week, exacerbated by several lively gym sessions, felt fiery and tendon...

You've got mail Downstairs to make Lorraine and I a cup of tea and found a romantic and copious cat poo on the carpet courtesy of fat Basil. I fed the cats, which Brian sicked up afterwards. Between I gave Lorraine her Valentine's card and a scarf and rose, and received a nice card of amorous owls. A lethargic start to the day, but I had to quickly get my ducks in a row and walk in to the BBC on Queens Road. Alison Ferns, who is really nice, was visibly pregnant and hadn't a clue what was on the CD (nor did she have one to hand, luckily I had one in my manbag) which left me slightly wondering what I was doing there. Still I was grateful for the coverage and she played most of one track, which sounded a bit weedy in the studio, but fine on the radio. I came out feeling I hadn't done a great job, but listening to the interview it was not bad under the circumstances. I was in and out in ten minutes or so, and then walked down to the sea briefly, and went to The Latest Musi...

Mum's birthday A good sleep in Edgware, only interrupted by the thundering of cats and a nocturnal hiss outside my door. In the morning Wynford called around to give Mum a birthday present from Glen, Mum's next door neighbour, who died a couple of days ago. He obviously very shaken up by the death of his mother, but he has a strong faith in God which was obviously a comfort to him. Up early and had a leisurely breakfast with Mum and Mase, then having a turkey lunch. Mum made me listen to the surprisingly good Nigel Kennedy Quartet. I also watched the swoopy bat-based punching epic Batman Begins with Mase. Surprisingly good. Home late in the afternoon. Rather tiresome journey. Even trying to have an honest wee in the Brighton train proved impossible. Waiting patiently and with increasing urgency outside the only working toilet, an mad old bat begged me to let her go first. Reluctantly, and with little grace, I agreed. However these negotiations were redundant. The man inside si...

Catching the big fish Talk about a lightness of being. Writing so much about health issues as I have been lately is gloomy work, and being free of it again today was wonderful. What to do with all this time? I feel so free. Chillax is the answer. To that end, and already festively plump, I went down to the gym for an albeit rather mild-mannered session. Pottered briefly in the North Lanes. Once home, I discovered that I have been contacted again by Giles from a BBC website, asking for a comment on the Argos adverts so I sent him something (which I've also put on my daywork blog). This afternoon I sat down to watch the only David Lynch film I'd never seen: Eraserhead . This was his first movie, made with scraped together cash over a period of five years, and it is amazing. So many Lynch tropes are in place - the parallel world, the weird stage, curtains, and the general unexplained air. There is a thread in Lynch which is like Samuel Beckett, and this is his most Beckett-like f...