under another sun

Up and at em… Lorraine and I spending a small fortune in Sainsbury's this morning. The day taken up with various Christmassy chores. Lorraine wrapping presents in a patient methodical way, and then I cooked a large roast supper and then L and I gorged on it while being gripped by  Borgen  the Danish political thriller. We also booked Japanese rail tickets, and planned everything we needed to do before we take off, including coaches to Heathrow. I chatted with Janet who is awaiting a day for her stent implant, and naturally wants it done with.  I wrote a few Christmas cards and caught up with correspondence and generally enjoyed spending time with my lovely wife. Neither of us feeling keen nor eager for work tomorrow.  Lorraine now officially end of termish and a bit sick of it all.

Scooped up a big ol' sack of brownie points by helping Lorraine with a headteacher application for several hours. This done, Betty, Lorraine and I consumed an enormous Sunday roast, and had a bottle of Tanglefoot beer each (three Tanglefeet?). Betty back home this evening. L and I watched concluding two episodes of the Danish Borgen  series. Wonderful stuff. TV with heart plus brains.

Heavy sleep, and after a leisurely morning up soporifically. To quell this, spent time with Lorraine moving things around the house until we were both wan and exhausted.  Off into town on the slushy streets to meet Matt at three in the Foundry. Briefly disconcerted by a burst of ectopic heartbeats twenty yards from the pub. Enjoyed a few slow beers and long wide-ranging discussion with Matt. Discussed Delius (Mahler-lite who had his moments, apparently) and explored the possibility of doing something in this year's festival, but we need a wonderful idea in the next few days. Also a good deal of news and gossip to catch up with; Dave's funeral at which Matt was a pall bearer, and the wake held in the Tavern, Christmases in Hull with his parents and so on. Sliding home via Sainsbury's. Shopping after a few beers adds a certain creativity and inclusiveness to the purchases: cholla bread, wine and chocolate mousse for Betty who'd returned home today after a ghastly day or...

After a slow start, Lorraine gripped by narcolepsy this morning, we drove to Lewes. We are toying with the idea of relocating in the future, probably to another part of Brighton, but we wanted to consider Lewes too. It is a characterful town, the county town of Sussex, with a castle, a prison, ancient bookshops, some splendid boozers and decent restaurants. It has the advantage of being a ten or fifteen minute train ride to Brighton. Food for thought, although these are very early days, and I am not sure I would swap Brighton for it. A disgracefully slumpish afternoon, after doing some food shopping watched two episodes of the quietly riveting Borgen on TV. Danish political wrangling from the prime minister's point of view, beautifully acted by Sidse Babett Knudsen as the statsminister which I now know is Danish for Prime Minister.

Lorraine up early, and I sprang up too. Working on insulin pens copy, before shuffling off to sit in the Quack's waiting room for 50 minutes. Luckily I was listening to PG Wodehouse, tuning into a funnier world of gentlemen's gentlemen, terrifying aunts and people 'what ho!'-ing each other and feeling really rather braced. The doctor arranging a trip to the specialist for me, as three months of this boring and depressing malarkey was deemed enough. He gave me a backup prescription for antibiotics so I won't be, um, caught short again. Enjoyably popped out for a coffee with Anton at lunchtime. Nice place, and my first cup of coffee for weeks. Anton loves Januaries, as it is the start of his working year, and nothing has had a chance to go wrong yet. Laughing about some of his patented work tactics, such as 'short answer yes, long answer no', the principle of never saying no to anyone, until you can give them a full explanation. Then home to finish off t...

The big sleep Narcoleptic morning, achy and unable to get out of bed. Neurotic about being ill before my concert next week, I decided to hermetically seal myself indoors and take it easy. Lorraine, who of course is really ill, did the same. I also biffed a night out with the Music boys I had planned, which was a shame. A cheery seeming Cath popped by for a cup of cocoa and a chat. Lorraine spoke to Sam who fell off his bike skidding on black ice and has a badly bruised hip and wrist. For me it was a sofa day, watching Rugby on TV, and then Borgen, a well-acted Danish TV series about a woman prime minister. The rest of the country it seems had snow, but down in the valley of Brighton we had teeming rain. Lorraine and I and Calliope went to sleep listening to the lovely sound of it falling on velux windows.