under another sun

Work from eight. A bit later, presented to strategists, creative director and  two suits, a plonkingly negative and unimaginative woman who hated the creative work we had done, as it wasn't the kind of work they usually do for the client (the same client they are about to lose because of soulless predictable creative). How this person is employed by a creative agency is a genuine mystery. As we began presenting Keith texted me to say that he 'could not be fucked to talk to these idiots', so I had to do it. The other was a charming geezer who had apparently stepped out of a time machine having entered it in 1992, and had not yet had a chance to catch up on how marketing and advertising has moved on since then.  I told them they were making me feel like the UK in the Eurovision song contest, and amazingly they liked one of our ideas as 'a wild card' to take into the pitch.  After the rest of this delightful day, walked up to the Hillfort, then came home and cooked. We...

Up well before seven, getting myself clean and making my ablutions ahead of colonoscopy this morning. Lorraine drove us to the hospital, keeping me calm. I was rather nervous but the staff very kind and put me at my ease. Was given a mild sedative, which I didn't seem to notice at the time, but made me feel woozy for the rest of the day. The main news is that things looked okay: no gut cancer which was a big relief. And one less thing to think about. However they had a hard job as my guts seemed to be in a tangle and they kept turning me over and rearranging my stomach. While this was going on I found myself talking to the Portuguese nurse about Pessoa the poet, and Saramago, the novelist. Conversations you don't expect to be having with a garden hose poking out of your backside. I was wearing unpleasant little shorts with a bit split in the backside. Very kind African nurse afterwards, to when she was discharging me, having given me water, tea and biscuits, gravely reminde...

Working today on rabid dogs in Africa. Made the mistake of explaining this to Sonia, who told me stories of Bulgarian dogs she has known and loved. Had to eat lots before 4pm, whereafter I drank gloopy liquids in preparation for my colonoscopy tomorrow. No beers or foods on a Friday. Watched football this evening, France vs Romania in the company of Lorraine and Betty. Whispering about food knowing I was just on the gloop. To bed fairly early, but enjoying the footy spectacle. Guts gurgling and groaning and very loose.

A Shakey moment Last day up in London for a wee bit. I think my normal train was cancelled this morning. So I arrived late, hungover and hypochondriacal for my final morning. However all was well, and I had cleared all the work they'd earmarked for me for the week by about 10:30, so they gave me extra and I gave them good value. Crept off with First Matie for a restorative lunchtime beer at The Shakespeare. This is a pub forgotten by time and civilisation, sitting unhappily near a major road, and a sprawling Sainsbury's. The folks in the agency call it, much more aptly judging by its jaded clientele, The Shakey. It is home to about six taciturn middle aged blokes who stand at their usual positions at the bar. It has not much furniture, and what it has is strangely inappropriate. There is a decrepit and unhealthy ambience about the place, but it's handy, which is the main thing. This is where Kate's boss, who is quite a character, repairs to do most of his thinking. Des...