under another sun

Heavy rain on the Velux windows at 5:30. Up later, thanks to a cup of tea from Lorraine. She was also stretching out her trousers to show how much weight she has lost on her fasting diet. Working on the book thinking about what constitutes a sense of wonder. This interspersed with the distinctly unwondrous business of chasing an unpaid invoice, speaking to the estate agent, washing sofa covers and so on. Somewhere a magical ring has been thrown into a volcano. Texts with Anton about the resignation of the Sauron of Manchester United, Sir Alex Ferguson. A splendid event that, hopefully, will herald that club's collapse into pastoral mediocrity. But I will miss his purple faced touchline rages and have to acknowledge that he was the best manager the English game has ever seen. A peaceful evening, Lorraine not having her best time at work. I comforted her with noodles.

To thine own self be true Happy new year! This new year's morning I have just walked out into the corner store in what seems a very sleepy Brighton, subdued in the aftermath of fireworks and partying, not to mention the two men who ran back and forth in the twitten making Native American style whoopings in the night. However I party pooped, thanks to the flu (aka the humbug). But this was good as I got to talk to Mum and Toby and Lorraine and take happy new year texts from many others. On the 30th, which was Mum's birthday, I travelled back down to Brighton. I felt a bit sad that I had brought only extra laundry and sore lungs to Mum and Mas for Christmas. It felt good to glimpse the great outside and to exploit the opportunity to glare balefully at people with my fiery Sauron eyes. Lorraine came around shortly after I arrived, and cooked me a meal, and generally took care of me. As a hypochondraic, I find knowing that she used to be a ward sister a great comfort. This time las...