under another sun

A quiet morning with Lorraine planning the year ahead, and tidying up the bomb-hit house: for First Matie was coming to visit. Wonderful to be able to share with her the highlife of Brighton - a rain-soaked traffic jam after picking her up, and then making her walk in the mud and rain of the bepuddled park, and taking her to the little walled garden, which was closed. However we did all enjoy looking at hundreds newts creeping about in murky pond. You have to make your own entertainment. Luckily Lorraine cooked us a mountain of veggies and a pork joint, and we had a glass of wine and forked down roast, crunching on crackling and, after a decent pause, custard and apple crumble. Proper English fare and lots to recommend it. Many of discussions to be had, as it had been a long time since I'd seen Kate, and it makes me pleased that Lorraine and First Matie get on so well too. I walked Katie off to Brighton station, for fond farewells. I then hurried off to the Unitarian Church to ...

Newts Disinclined to do anything today. So I did lots of therapeutic tidying, laundry and hoovering, and a fair amount of throwing things away. If in doubt tidy is an excellent mantra. In the evening walked down to Lorraine's house and we went for a walk in the park behind her house now that the evenings are light. I was desperate to use my little flip camera and employed it looking at newts in a pond. Then with Betty off to the local curry house. Where I enjoyed a mild mannered meal and several cold lagers. For some reason cold lagers were exceedingly attractive tonight. I had one or two more when back at Lorraine's. Below newts and Lorraine on my new camera. Nice quality seeing as it was late and in low light.

That's not small, it's my newt A much needed chilled weekend. Watched the Frasier series 9 DVDs from my sofa. Also playing guitar, and combining these activities with a jazzular riff to accompany the Frasier theme tune. Otherwise I dealt with a backlog of bills and other drivel sent in envelopes, laundry, cleaning, and all the thousand other natural chores that flesh is heir to, amid the usual flashes of rage about not having servants. There is a nasty smell of damp under the stairs. This provoked by rain that would have Noah eyeing the skies and reaching for a brace of aardvarks. The damp joins the list of things about which Something Must Be Done: a damp course in due course. On Saturday I baked a layer pie, which is a pie containing layers of onion and egg and pork of my mother's invention circa 1970. Actually really nice hot or cold. And, having strata of various colours, delights both eye and gullet. It is especially fine cold, and served with hot chips. Out and about ...