under another sun

Chatting with Betty, who on leaving left Lorraine and I a lovely anniversary card, off and on before she set off for Brighton late this afternoon. Betty is rather beset at the moment, with her phone inexplicably being cut off this afternoon. Meanwhile I became Chairman Kenny, as Peter Kenny The Writer Ltd. is now an actual thing, and its documentation arrived in the post today, along with solicitor blah blahs about the house. Lorraine is my Company secretary so is now able to be ordered about, imperiously asked for teas and subject to unwantedly depraved attentions. It's company number rocks (9279272) too. Bob called me this afternoon, walking the dog off to pick up Millie somewhere in Salisbury. Lorraine home after ten, having been training governors. I watched several episodes of The World at War. Such an excellent series, although somewhat depressing obviously. Made toast and tea for my baby when she got home. And so to bed. Finished the Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazak...

Normal hours today. Lorraine up early and me working at my desk first thing on poetry in a room with a view, well with the novelty of a window at least and a perfectly pleasant outlook on the edge of nowhere estate we live in. It rained for most of the day. I walked half an hour to the supermarket and got drenched on the way home. A hot shower on returning. Strangely lonely abandoned feeling in this estate, and find I am missing Brighton, and even the dubious delights of London road. Draining sore-throat and am finding it hard to prioritise. Instead, and guiltily knowing how hard Lorraine was working, read Murakami's new novel like a mad thing. Almost done. Spoke to Mark too this evening. Betty arrived early this evening, driven here by a surly taxi driver. Gallingly the job she had lined up as a Christmas elf has now gone, as the company doing it has changed all their plans. Bastards. Beth though galled has taken it like a trouper. She also had her painful heel treated with...

A much needed day of rest. I got up early and worked on an old poem I have suddenly found a new way into, and is working really well. Then back to bed with cups of tea. Reading the new Murakami, catchily entitled, Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and his years of pilgrimage which Lorraine brought me. Enjoying Murakami as usual. Messages from Toby, he is off to California to see Alex this week, and Romy and Tobs will be moving to Ottowa next year. Excellently, my bro will be over, arriving in the UK on Christmas Day. A brief excursion to do some shopping in the afternoon and I cooked what turned out to be a strangely triumphant casserole, with chorizo and chicken, beans and various veggies and herbs, which Lorraine and I polished off this evening. Anton stopped by this afternoon with Klaudia and Oskar having been to his Mum's in London, bearing belated birthday gifts, including a copy of The Communist Manifesto by Marx and Engles, which I have not read since I was twenty, and a DV...

Pompatus of love Up early to start writing copy for a French tourism campaign for the first few hours. Once completed I went to the gym, however was curiously underpowered today, so had a light session. Then back to work on Skelton Yawngrave, and have a few slightly tiresome business chats. Mum called to say that her scan results were fine. This is excellent news for a smorgasbord of reasons. Robbie told me via Facebook about Spotify, which is a splendid music site. He'd been listening to Steve Miller, whose famous song The Joker has the lines "Some people call me Maurice, because I speak of the pompatus of love." I'd always thought I'd misheard this line but apparently Miller is one for neologisms. I like pompatus (just one of the spellings I have seen of it on the Internet) a good deal. Spent the evening finishing The Missing Person's Guide to Love by Susanna Jones. Gripped by this book which is full of existential uncertainties. I was reminded of Haruki M...

Too cute Up early and thinking of New York. Got to work, and now a smidge away from having my slimmed down 22 poem ms ready to send out and get cracking with. Spoke to Simon at some length this morning too, about various sustainability projects, and we'll see each other tomorrow - after I've done my interview with Pooran. Apparently the Cat with the Hat will be down in Brighton too. Sloped off for a swym, the pool was freezing, and the showers had no hot water. I spoke to someone in the gym and the spoke back, which is a bit of a first. Now listening to Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami as an audiobook. I love Murakami's work, but this one seems to have slipped through the PK net. So I need to get it read. Good so far, and has a cat, albeit a dead one. His work makes me feel strangely calm. Got a note from the local radio, and a producer is going to call me about an idea I wrote to them with. Watch this space. In the evening Lorraine came around for a short while, and sh...