under another sun

Up to buy breakfast, was asked what I thought about Jeremy Corbyn by the man in the corner shop, looking up from the Daily Mail.  The owner clearly thought Corbyn was a lunatic. Then a morning of sorting stuff out with Lorraine and Betty and going to Sainsburys and so on. We borrowed Jenny next door's lawn mower, and I cut our patch of grass which was thick and luxuriant. In the afternoon Anton and Anne came round, Anton armed with an apple and blackberry pie, made from the blackberries we'd found yesterday. It was delicious, as was the roast pork Lorraine made. All of us rather gorged on things, including cheeses afterwards. Anton very animated about politics this afternoon. Anne is a royalist, right winger which Anton finds difficult to accommodate with amusing results. Evening spent digesting foods, and getting ready for the week ahead. Watched a traumatising Scandinavian noir series called Beck, featuring people being buried alive in coffins by a psycho. Lorraine and I ...

Maid of the Mist, and a lost meatball Toby and Romy feeling horrible today as Meaty has disappeared, in a completely uncharacteristic manner. Much breakfasttime wandering about the neighbourhood in a futile search for the anxious faced little thing. Lorraine and I however left to visit Niagara Falls. Went downtown to central Toronto and caught a coach. We somehow got on an earlier than scheduled one, which stopped near Niagara Falls casino. Strangely vulgar town, with a ferris wheel and odd towers looking down at the two parts of the falls, the smaller US side, and the horseshoe Canadian side. However the falls themselves are wonderful, and the views amazing. Great peoplewatching to be had too. Had a fastfoody lunch, and then decided to go on one of the Maid of the Mist boats. Soon we were putting on our thin blue waterproof, and herding onto the boat. It was genuinely exciting to be to close to the falls' thunder, and to enter the mist and coast among rainbows. Niagara coach stati...

Faffing Faffing about, taking care of last minute bits, including a smidge of hepatitis work. This of course reminds me... Q: What's the most dangerous insect in the world? A: The hepatitis bee. Luckily for Calliope and my fishy friends, Lorraine's parents Pat and Maureen are going to be staying in the twitten while I am gone. This very kind, and I hope they enjoy a pied-à-terre in the centre of Brighton. Their imminent arrival however has necessitated a general scrubbing of things today to conceal the debased nature of my housecleaning. It also forced me to stash crack pipe, snuff movies, side arms etc. in case they get some funny ideas about me. Calliope standing forlornly in my case as I pack it. Walking improving all the time. Depressingly, though, I have undone all the good gym work while sprawling on my gold sofa like Jabba the Hut in the last few weeks. Spoke to Toby and Mum, and Romy sent me a note to say it is 39C in Toronto with pictures of meatball experiencing its ...