under another sun

Ticking boxes We heard Cath slip away early in the morning, and later I got up due to the persistence of cats and their infernal demands for prawns and food. Tidied away (with some disgust) kebab nastiness before Lorraine got up and we had a slow breakfast. Cats sitting like chess pieces on the paving stones outside as we drove off to the Twitten. Today emptied my house of almost everything, cramming Lorraine's car with yet more boxes, spades and various unlikely salvage. Called in on Anna to drop off the record player stand Anton had lent me, and had a chat with Mark and Hilary, and helped them carry sacks down the Twitten. Then the supermarket followed by a much-needed flop on the sofa. Lorraine cooked roast chicken and many delicious vegetables for supper, and we watched a fair amount of nonsense on the television.

Pizza night Short of sleep due to the cat barging me in the night, and onto the train. Feeling waves of cheer this morning. Friday, I suppose. A spell of commuting is a good reminder of the workaday world, and allows me to catch up on audiobook and podcast listening, and makes me feel utterly grateful not to have to do it every day. Work fine and enlivened by popping briefly into my old agency and selling a book or two. Nice chats with some of my old cronies there. Rather brain dead by five thirty, and was pleased to find the ejector seat button. Once back into the comparative civilisation of the Twitten, bumped into Mark Bassey my neighbour, and he said he would be happy to meet Matt and I to discuss the trombone piece Matt is planning based on a poem of mine. It turns out that Matt is a huge fan of Mark, knowing his work for some time. Matt very impressed and pleased that he was my neighbour and had come to see This concert etc . A fast shower and Lorraine called around, and we zoome...

Basketmakers A bank holiday weekend, and naturally nothing but the wild rain hosing down on Brighton. Lorraine and I went to see her Bulgarian friend Romina, who had two newish sofas to sell as she is moving to Switzerland. We were given slices of cake and cups of tea and had a really nice chat. Romina's son Vas was a superconfident 14 who from his own account is a gifted drummer, and Michael Jackson devotee. They are moving to Switzerland soon. Out into the rain, and from there to the cozy Basketmakers where we met Matt and John for some grub and a few beers. A jolly good time. We got talking about Mark Bassey, one of my neighbours who is a trombone player. Turns out that he is a big hero of Matt's so I will try to arrange a meeting. Matt very pleased that Mark had come to our show. Home and snoozing on the sofa, woken by a new neighbour called Merlin wanting to borrow some kitchen scales. Then watching the enjoyably awful Eurovision Song Contest. The UK entrant was justifiabl...

Minnie the Poocher To Westhill Hall, which is a little community hall tucked away behind some flats about five minutes walk away. My neighbour Mark Bassey was doing a gig organised by his dog-adoring partner Hilary in aid of Canine Partners . It was a pleasant night sipping from warm tins of beer watching Mark, and an excellent pianist, drummer and bassist combo on a little curtained stage. Little stages always remind me of David Lynch these days, and the jazz and dogs comination was rather Twin Peaks. Mark was a very likable stage presence. And in his last trombone solo, one of the dogs joined in and they had a brief, but memorable duet. And the dogs even had their own raffle with things like pull toy prizes. Lorraine and I sat with Gary and Alex, two denizens of the Twitten. Gary talking enthusiastically to me on the way home about British Jazz in the 50s and 60s, and was rather impressed when I said Mum had worked in Ronnie Scott's as a stripling. He wasn't much one for roc...