under another sun

So up slowly this morning. Grateful for not having to rush anywhere this Saturday.  Lorraine and I getting ourselves sorted out and catching up on some life admin in the morning. Lorraine's cousin Kay was going to come today, with her son Matt as they were visiting a college in Brighton. Also I had a cousin coming today too. And soon Liz her husband Sean, and their son Thomas, who was looking at a medical school at Sussex University arrived. After we all chatted with Lorraine, I made off with the cousins off to The Preston Park Tavern where we had a bite to eat. Then we mooched into town, through the North Laine and down to the sea. I found I really liked all of the family a great deal, and there were no awkward silences and so on. Just felt perfectly normal. Sean is a lovely guy and an engineer, Thomas a bright young lad set on studying medicine. Apparently Thomas was told that students at this particular school get a cadaver to share when they start, which really amused me. (Prob...

The dead horse of the week Up to London for another bout of neuropathic pain concepting. Talking to Lorraine before I got to the office, who gave me a pep talk as I was still self-indulgently gloomy. Although the surveyor cancelled this morning, a replacement was found and at last Lorraine's house buyer had a survey done. Perhaps things are going to move for her now. Sean and I settled into the now familiar banter, as we gave the now necrotizing horse a good flogging. Was longing to be home all day, and felt decidedly jaded. Was offered some work over the weekend, which I declined. A manly hug from Sean as I left. Anton persuaded me to download The Silmarillion which I was listening to on the train today, which I have not read for about thirty years. It's a bit mad and obsessional. But interesting too. Nice to be home. It was very tidy, as I had used my computer rage yesterday to tidy up, defrost the fridge etc. When Lorraine came, we went out to find Matt and Wayne. We found t...

Imaginary iron A day in London. On the train I was gripped by the idea that I had left my iron on, and ended up having to ask Anton to go around to my house to check. I wasn't. Some kind of subconscious desire to return home manifesting itself probably. Still, it allowed Anton to reclaim his turntable which, much to his disgust, I hardly use. At my old agency got to work Sean again for a last day of neuropathic pain. The new creative director said his client had told him that it was the best creative presentation they'd ever seen, this as much to do with his presentation as the work probably, but at least a nice bit of feedback. The day spent squeezing blood from the stone of the same brief. We seem to set each other off somewhat, laughing hysterically as we trudged on with the same brief. I took a short walk at lunch along the misty river at lunchtime. Spent the day coming up with really complicated ideas, and in the end did two really simple ones. Towards the end...

Held responsible Up to London. Popped in to see my glamorous accountant and hand over things I'd signed. Then into the agency. A long and slightly trying day. But all well when I left at sevenish, the first neuropathic pain work coming to a raging climax today. Interestingly, Richard the visualiser was using a Tablet PC, allowing him to draw directly onto the screen of his computer. Really cool, and makes amending the image really fast, without having to start again like traditional visualisers. Slunk off leaving the ever suffering art director (in this case Sean) to see the work through. Feeling tired on the train home, half looking out at the occasional firework bursting in the sky while listening to Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. It is a series of linked short stories, in a style the author calls Transgressive Fiction. The opening story, Guts , which I mentioned the other day is without exaggeration, and by some way, the single most disgusting thing I have ever read. Apparently pe...

Windbaggery The best part of this week is that I have made a new friend in the form of Sean the art director. He is a very funny guy and we have been setting each other off during the week. However having got everyone happy with the neuropathic pain work by the morning, it was all, rather comically, blown out of the water by the new creative director last thing in the afternoon. Sean and I, however, have been asked back for next week to continue working on it. This at least means a few more doubloons in the Kenny coffers. Home at eightish, and took myself to the pub to wait for Lorraine. Had a slow pint reading my recently purchased copy of the first edition of Lyrical Ballads by Wordsworth and Coleridge. I wanted to discover any thinking that Richard and I can use. But Ancient Mariner aside, its poems really are tripe and onions. While I can appreciate his historical importance, The Prelude aside, I have always found Wordsworth to be a tiresome windbag. Very tired this evening too, ...