under another sun

A cockentrice Running about getting ready for my holiday. Sam who is house sitting came by with Lorraine tonight and I briefed him on cat business over the fish and chips they'd brought with them. I suspect he thinks Calliope is a cat. I will miss Lorraine. We were diverted by the TV as Heston Blumenthal was cooking a Tudor-inspired cockentrice. Fascinating TV. Like the craziness of creating a creating a Frankenstein animal filled with a medley of meats. I'm turning into a Blumenthal fan. Otherwise spent the day tidying, hoovering, laundry and so on in between admin and emails, while experiencing another periodic wave of resentment about the absence of servants. Late at night, when I was in bed reading Bombers 1939-1945 by Kenneth Munsun, I noticed Calliope had stealthily unpacked four pairs of socks from my open case. Next stop Guernsey. Below Bluementhal's cockentrice.

Boomerang Off to London to start a two day spell of freelancing in my old agency for two day. For some reason I sprang from bed feeling very dubious very early in the morning. And so by time I arrived in the agency I was already tired. Boomeranging back, makes you feel like a Shakespearean ghost, with people double-taking at you from time to time. Aren't you dead ? But all was well, and the day was spent locked away with The Gnome working on concepts for the needles/eyes work for the client I'd pitched to in Switzerland. Pleased to see The Gnome again, and we did some good work, and ate chocolate biscuits and drank numerous teas. Then elbowing my way home. I was pleased to get this work, but it makes me wonder how I was able to do it every working day for getting on for 3 years. A couch potato in the evening, every show seemed to be about food Heston Blumenthal , Gordon Ramsay, are amazing (and completely different) characters. Bluementhal has been written about as a Willy Wonk...