under another sun

Off up to London again, rather wan and sweaty, however doing good work on the train on my poems, writing decisively and with clarity. Another pleasant enough worm-based day, though an undercurrent of frustration at being so run down and everything a bit of a struggle. Through Facebook, learned from Diane in New York that MJ's son Jack has gone missing for three days. Jack is now 17 and obviously everyone is worried - though he was seen today in his hometown, so hopefully he's not gone too far or come to harm. Went to lunch with Matty boy, who briefed me on something to do with the ghastly pulmonary arterial hypertension over a pleasant, and nicely priced Italian food, with some sparkling water. Interesting chats with him as ever. The shower isn't working properly at the Twitten, so another round of expensive plumber-based activity awaits. Home early, a few minutes before eight. Lorraine still working at her laptop, doing her best to get through a nightmare week, so I ...

Memories and theories Nightmares last night after going to bed early but a beautiful morning. Today reminds me of MJ. Apart from the horror of the events on this day in 2001, which I watched live on TV at my agency with an American friend Craig, it reminds me of how we had swapped emails in the morning before the event - and in the days afterwards. She was terrified, and my heart went out to her. Visiting Ground Zero in 2005 was a very sobering experience. All those poor people dead, including one of MJ's best friends. And a few hours later was the first time I met MJ in person. Listening now to Saturday by Ian McEwen. The book, which is excellent, is set on the day of 15th February 2003. A day I also remember well as I joined the other two million people marching through London against the warmongering of the west - as a direct consequence of 9/11 of course. Actually marching was a bit of a misnomer, the march was creeping at a snail's pace, and bloody freezing it was too. Aft...

Home is where the heart is Spring clean of the mind and home continues: I bought a small filing cabinet and files and now have all my bills and tiresome correspondence filed away. This is almost bordering on the organised. Also did a spot more shopping and saw an excellent bargain on a shop demonstration global knife, which brings my complement up to three which, according to Romy, is all the knives a gentleman needs. I then rounded up my arsenal of rubbish knives, about 12 of them. Not sure how to dispose of these, perhaps fling them at felons in the twitten. Loved being at home today. I put a bean jar in the oven and loaded it with herbs, and I could smell it cooking allday. I also sat in front of my computer and tried to write but instead got sucked into listening to a dramatisation of Germinal by Zola on R4. Really good. But I know that there is a lot of stuff in the pipeline. To my surprise I was also contacted through IM by Mary Jane. She says that Jack is now a vegetarian, and ...

The diary of a nobody The Gnome and me in something of a slogathon today. Was able to steal only five minutes getting a breath of blustery air down by the river, working on this new wretched pitch which I have to deliver on Wednesday morning. Left work at 9:00pm but just missed my connection at Victoria and so didn't arrive home till 11:00pm. I have downloaded another audiobook -- the wonderful Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith, which is one of my all time favourites. The main character, Charles Pooter, writes an unintentionally hilarious diary where he notes all kinds of trivialities, and has his dignity continually compromised. The precursor of blogs everywhere, including - soberingly enough - my own. But when you are brain dead on a train, listening to a funny book on your iPod is really nice. Home at 11 and warmed through a bowl of stew, picking up rogue bits of glass while waiting for it to warm. The last thing I did before I went to bed last night was drop a p...