under another sun

A bad night's sleep. Lorraine and I up early due to the scaffolders arriving this morning. Walking through the house with the long poles and poking them through the kitchen window out into the garden. They got the job done fairly quickly. While this was being done, I quickly sent off notes and tweets and so on about the episodes to various people connected to the last podcast -- then I was free as a bird for the day.  Lorraine went off to see Dawn for a walk. I chatted to Sonia when she came in, then made off to collect Anton, and we walked down to seafront near the Peace statue, where we set about playing pétanque -- unzipping two sets of brand new boules from their bags, his present from his children, and playing on the little ground there is for it. We began to play, and soon there were other groups of folks playing all around us. A cheerful vibe, and it was sunny down by the sea, and it was a fine thing to be throwing boules around without a care in the world for a while, with ...

Lorraine off to work. I hate seeing her go off to work at the moment. A day of working on my own stuff, and editing the Charlotte Gann interview. Also a tidy cell is a tidy mind so hoovered the house from top to bottom, washing the floors and bathrooms and kitchen and so on. An afternoon walk up to the usual places. A small military ship just off the coast, and police helicopter flying over central Brighton streets for ages. A car had accelerated through a police stopping point, and was being tracked. Finished listening to I wanna be yours. Eventually he straightened out, but another shining example of how rubbish heroin is, listening to how JCC spent years of his life wondering where he was going to get his next deal from. Home and a chat with Mum, who is fine post jab although still bored and George next door still doing bad things. And in the first world problems department, I started a campaign against Moleskine, from whom I have now been waiting 15 days for my diary's delivery...

Pat and Maureen's 63rd anniversary. Lorraine had booked a table at the Cleveland Arms nearby, and we walked there, Maureen scooting along briskly on her wheels. Beers and food brought to the table, which is slower, but means people don't mill about in the pub. We were joined there by Beth and her new friend James, who exhibits a kindness and sensitivity I  really like. Food actually really good there, most of us had roasts which one some kind of small food award recently. We renewed our friendship with the Harveys brewery via the medium of pints of Harvey's best. A cheery meal. Spoke to Mum and Anton. Anton worn out after working on his house, and also being back at work. A small poem of mine came out here in London Grip  several of my pals are also included.

This morning Calliope did not wake me up, nor was she sitting on my bedside table like an owl waiting to pounce on me the moment I showed any sign of waking. She remained curled up and sleepy, and didn't follow me to the kitchen for food in the morning. All abnormal behaviour for her. Lorraine and I went out this afternoon to Lewes. I had half convinced myself that my furry daemon  would be dead when I got home. In Lewes, Lorraine and I mooched about in antique shops, with half an eye for a wardrobe to put in the big bedroom. Quite enjoy the random multiplicity of objects you find in antique shops, of which Lewes has an embarrassment. Lorraine and I looked quite hard, but found nothing quite right. Flagging we paused in a cafe and then made our way home, the train containing supporters of Lewes FC. In the evening I learned that Lewes play in the Boston League South, the same league as Guernsey FC. Next time Guernsey play there, I must see them. Mum's birthday today, and we ...