under another sun

Feeling rough with a streaming cold. Did a couple of hours first thing, and mooched off to buy some more paracetamol, some bread, and post off a letter containing a photocopy of my passport and a utility bill to Ken's solicitors, as I am to receive a small legacy from the dear old thing. This done, all my energy evaporated, and I spent the rest of the day like a sea cucumber on the gold sofa, rallied to tidy kitchen, cook a soup, to which Lorraine served up and added cream and other bits when she got home. And so, snufflingly, like a rough beast to bed.

Ken's funeral up in Leamington today.  I did not go to it. I sent a message to the Goodwin family a few days ago. Otherwise felt buoyant from an excellent day's work. I wrote over four thousand words on my horror story. It is a strange business. It feels like chipping away at a wall, which suddenly gives way into a whole new room into which you step in an effortless way. Rather exhilarating. In the absence of anything else going on, at least this is great fun. I also downloaded a simple app which blocks you when you try to look at facebook. I don't even much like facebook any more, but I find a kind of muscle memory makes me automatically click on it. This app gives you sterling messages about focus and not being distracted. It is brilliant. I found I automatically clicked on Facebook three times today, and was thwarted each time, and simply returned to work. Went to the gym, but had one of those times where I simply did not fancy it, and felt weirdly hot when I start...

Thinking about how Ken lots, and how irrepressible he had been for most of the time I had known him. I would love to be able to believe in a heaven where he is sharing a nice bottle of Blanquette de Limoux with Janet right now. Apart from this, I wound up the week by posting signed stuff to a solicitor, putting an open to persuasion update on LinkedIn, and readying and sending off a short story to Popshot. This more in hope than expectation, but demonstrating Iron Discipline nevertheless. A chat with Sonia who made me laugh as usual, then off to the gym for a session there. Most enjoyably, I sat in Starbucks afterwards with a notepad, and plotted the first part of this new story I seem to be writing in the horror tradition. It is about twins. Then home in the pouring rain and straight into a hot shower once home. A quick chat with Anton, sending sympathy about Ken, and then Lorraine home and she immediately began cooking a pepper beef curry This was one of Beth's favourite chil...

Received a phone call from Madeline this morning to say that Rod had let her know that Ken had died yesterday. To be honest while obviously saddened at my old friend's passing, I think that living in a world without Janet was little joy for him.  With his vascular dementia I felt I had been saying goodbye to him by inches for the last few years anyway. Sitting with him while Janet was ill brought back memories of how he used to be, and the good times we had. I feel that I did not let him down, when things got difficult, and I helped him the best I could.  A man with a huge appetite for life, who loved song and languages, and loved Janet greatly. Madeline asked me to send out a note, and Sonia said that it was the end of an era. In other news, I simply stayed at home today, working on my own bits and pieces.  Shortly after I spoke to Madeline a noticed a strange bird in the tree outside. I snapped it with my lumix to get a better look at it. After I looked it up and it w...

Displacements A very enjoyable day, but not one in which much work happened. Trekked late from Lorraine's house to my own, and started work at a reprehensible 9:20. Glad I'd taken my hiking pole with a jabby end, as the streets are treacherously icy, climbing up hills coated with thick ice not a happy experience for generously proportioned gentleman with a high centre of gravity. A long and enjoyable chat on the theme of island madness with Richard this morning, then after several displacements, off at lunchtime to walk gingerly up to see Janet and Ken, to drop off some milk (as they'd sensibly avoided the icy streets) and their copy of A Guernsey Double , and Ken gave me a copy of his new translation Letters to Madame The Marchioness of P * * * * on Opera . (Attributed to the Abbe Gabriel Bonnnot de Mably 1709 - 1785). We also had a nice cup of tea, where I was shown a portrait of Rossi , their ginger cat. Then home. Mum called me just after I stepped into the door, h...

Ken's 80th birthday This morning a few last minute tweaks to Ken's poem, and a nip around the corner to score a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux. Then Lorraine and I scurried in the bitter cold to Casa Don Carlos in the Old Lanes to meet Ken and about 20 of his closest mates and family. We all sat at a long table and plates of tapas appeared in droves. Chatted to some nice new people including Yoshi, a Japanese who had moved to London and is an enthusiastic baritone singer. A lusty rendition of happy birthday from all in the restaurant then all out by taxi or stiff uphill walk to Janet and Ken's house where the party continued. An additional swathe of guests, including Remo last seen as my loquacious guardian angel fixing my locks after my burglary. I had a long chat with Caroline, Ken's daughter who had flown in from Italy for the party, and who is now a singing teaching in a school in Milan. She is also performing, and writing church music. When it was time for Ken to...