under another sun

A really good five or six hours of working more fluently than I had done for some days this morning, and I made some good progress. Then I took myself for another walk, through the woods by the golf course at Hollingbury, determined to get my ten thousand paces done, though still feeling underpowered, sore throated and so on. Lorraine has this cold badly, but is still struggling into work. I was listening to the weighty audiobook of  Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie as I trudged. I am over half way now. Fascinating story of Rushdie's life under the fatwah, but I feel his account is screaming out for a hard edit. The death sentence hanging over Rushdie for writing a book was utterly unacceptable, but Rushdie himself is hard to like, and the man who emerges from his account is complex, highly talented, wronged, with lashings of pomposity and vanity, but ultimately he is also an heroic figure. Spoke to Mum this afternoon, and also was asked to go up to London to do some work tomorr...

Monday and looking forward to getting on with my work, and doing some more decorating. I spoke to Keith, as I am covering for Pat who is on hols. Also took myself off for another walk today. I noticed, however, that I had bruised two of my toes when walking with Anton, as I hadn't laced my boots properly. A schoolboy error. Nice to have an interlude of walking about in the woods around the golf course. I you know where you are going you can have quite a bit of a walk under trees. Then I walked down to Preston Park, where I had a cup of tea, and thought about the writing I'm doing. Then back to my desk after a shower. Spoke to Mum and cooked supper. My Mondays are the luckiest Mondays in the world. Am listening to Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie, his account of living under the Fatwah. Up high near the golf course, a view of shining streets below.

Despite having a slight cold, there was a song on my lips this morning for I did not have to join the rain-soaked stampede of pinching, punching commuters. Instead, as I am working from home this week, I gave myself permission to slack off after some admin, billing and so on. To the local greengrocer, where the tiny, ancient proprietor shambles between the tired vegetables or on the days when he is working alone, disappears into the back for minutes at a time leaving his shop at the mercy of light fingers. Most leave cash on his till when he has wandered off. I bought leeks, potatoes and butternut squash. From these ingredients, with the addition of garlic, a fresh red chilli, cumin and coriander, mushrooms and chicken stock, I fashioned an unexpectedly delicious soup. The afternoon given over to a cold-induced snooze and embarking on Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie, lent me by my pal Nicola, who had previously turned me on to the splendid  Owen Meany . Midnight's Ch...

Off in torrential rain this morning. Pleasant enough ride to work once the train had slid from under the brooding black cloud over Brighton and the downs. My new tea flask has transformed my journey, splashing a little comfort into a cup after half an hour or so... Such are the straws I clutch at. Work okay, but this is not an especially friendly office. An interesting area however, and I took myself off for a rainy half hour walk at lunchtime. Listening to a Start the Week programme with Salman Rushdie being interviewed by Andrew Marr on the way home. Found myself warming to Rushdie in a way I'd not done before. Walked home from the station in stair-rod rain. I left my umbrella in the office in London. Despite being happy to be earning, I have been longing for Friday since Monday morning. Home to some lovely food Lorraine had cooked. All well. Below St John's Gate (I know nothing about this, and must investigate); Passing Alley a most Jack the Ripperish rat run; the gau...