under another sun

Tasks of small consequence Dell think there is something wrong with the circuit that starts the computer, after I held the phone so the man in India could hear the persistently beeping but dead as a doornail bastard. They will send another engineer to replace it. On the plus side this means that all the important parts of the PC will have been replaced, effectively giving me a new computer. If only it would work. However the conversation was done inside half an hour which was a mercy. With an imminent move, no working PC and no idea when the engineer will turn up, I began to feel myself drifting into limbo. So I repainted my green fence, chatted to Mark the trombonist about music, met Cath for a fast but enjoyable coffee as she was in town, had a haircut (skillfully avoiding the walrus-faced one and doging past the Police cordon outside the bookies which had been robbed), went to the gym and generally busied myself with tasks of small consequence. Naturally my computer started perfectl...

Kung fu in the kitchen After lots more sleep began to feel better this afternoon. To mark this renaissance, and to celebrate Friday, I sauntered off in the evening to The Basketmakers. Matt suffering from a cold. But I had arranged to meet Steve Cartwright, who was on a high after what he said may have been the best ever Sumerian Kyngs gig this week. We also invited Dawn, who I felt Steve ought to meet, and Cathy. Nobody arrived on time, however Beth was there early waiting to meet her father (who drinks in the Basketmakers too) and we had a cheeky drink and a chat about Betty the Spacegirl. I quaffed pints of Seafarers with some enthusiasm, and gossiped at great length with everyone, I love evenings like this. Home with Lorraine to cheese on toast, where in the space of two minutes I managed to drop the grill pan and all its toasty lode, smash a glass coaster that stuck to the bottom of my glass of sparkling water, and kicked the door of a kitchen cupboard, which stoved in as if I ...

Rugby knees Up at a decadent 11.00am. Belated muesli, then Lorraine and I shot off for spot of shopping in Brighton. This included speaking to a toweringly fit Gordie podiatrist called Tim about feet and knees. He told me to take my knee to the doctor, and that it is a typical ex-rugby player's knee. I nodded gravely as if to indicate that I had just, with great reluctance, retired from an international career, rather than just having scuffed about for my school team decades ago. Some hours later I returned home empty handed having tried on 800 sensible v-necked jumpers which all seem to be cut too short in the body. It would seem I have a vermiform back. In the evening off to Cathy's place for a dinner party. She had invited her friend Colin, who Lorraine had already told me was very like my pal Carl. Something about him was very Carl-like, he was funny in a Watsonish way, and he had similar mannerisms and so on. Colin however was a physics teacher, and we found we had lots of...

Among the antiques, an old friend Up early and made coffee for Bob, and we sipped it dolefully, somewhat sadder and wiser after what proved to be too many beers the night before. We are not as young as we were. Mad dog woke with a stiff neck which he blamed on swollen glands. He got a bit tetchy when I pointed out the fanciful nature of this diagnosis, and we bickered weakly till it was time for him to get his train. Worked for a few hours, then decided that more than anything else in the world I needed a new pot for one of my cacti. Nearby there is a shop with old fashioned beautifully coloured pots with a Kew Gardens stamp on. But something in me balks at paying £20 for a flower pot. Passing the antiques auction place I decided to pop in there to see what was what. There was no useful pots, however instead I found an old friend working in there. Cathy was a very good friend of my old friend Tim Gallagher. We'd not seen each other since shortly after his death. It was really good...