under another sun

Dragon's Dream Ate my own bodyweight today: a large breakfast in a local pub, then back home for a big Thanksgiving feed cooked by Mase. Tanya and Robert mum and Mason's pals came around too, and we had a fun afternoon despite Tanya talking about boiling frogs in socks in the Philippines. Socks? Yes hessian socks. Then Lorraine started talking about the uses of leeches and maggots in medicine, which put me right off my turkey for several seconds. Lorraine and I went home, and we were greeted ecstatically by Calliope, who had clearly given me up for dead after staying away last night. And after Lorraine left, the kitten superglued herself to me for the rest of the evening. Over the kitten's head read Dragon's Dream , the new book by Roger Dean . He famously did the Yes covers I poured over as a teenager, but he has also had fascinating approaches to interior design, and architecture which are still way ahead of their time. In the seventies Dean had a book called Views , ...

A Thanksgiving Started the day learning that my poem A sparrow at 30,000 feet will be in the first issue of a new magazine from Guernsey called Written In. The editors have also kept hold of other poems to use them in subsequent issues, so this is all good. It is important to me to have work appear in Guernsey. Also I recieved a note from Joan who has been talking to Dick about my megalithic find, (see previous entry) and thinks it is a stone age scraper used to scrape hair and fat off hides. He was familiar with this instrument because he just read a book dealing with the prehistoric natives of Ontario. I have sent my jpegs off to a local museum to see if they make anything of it, or simply tell me it is a piece of stone. Then up to Edgware for Mason's tradional late Thanksgiving supper. A cheerful gathering there, with Tanya and Robert, Ben and Poppy (over from Guernsey) and Diane who is looking remarkably good after her recent radiotherapy treatment. Nice to fork into some turk...

Thanksgiving Limp rag-ish this morning, but off to see Mum and Mase. The trains doomed and replaced by buses etc. En route Matty-boy texted me over the finer points of making a Guernsey Bean Jar. Collected by Mase at Mill Hill and was driven back to be revived by several cups of tea while Mase told me about his daughter in law and grandchildren, and mum told me about her new Czech mates. Mum has been adopted as cult figure by lots of Czech women. Then, as Mase got busy in the kitchen Di arrived. Mum me and Di drank large gin and tonics in the conservatory scarfing on pistachio nuts. Then Tanya and Robert arrived. Very pleasant afternoon all round with lots of turkey-based knife-and-forkwork and some bizarre conversations between Mase and Tanya with their differing Californian and Filipina perspectives on the definition of confidence tricksters, virgins, Moonies, heaven etc. Last thing at night, I got a text from Matty saying his bean jar was a triumph: I felt a powerful up-welling of ...

ha-ha-ha-HA-ha! Thanksgiving in the US today, made me remember MJ and her bairns' turkey-eating song, complete with snappy hand movements. I'll have a Thanksgiving at Mum and Mason's place in Edgware this Sunday, which will be fun too, and I am planning to stay the night so I can eat with disgraceful abandon. A really good day at work. Thank God our pitch concept is finally working. We're pitching for a premium beer, and we filmed a beer tasting in the agency as part of the presentation. I won't be fronting it, which means I can relax this weekend. To celebrate I downloaded the Woody Woodpecker theme tune with its annoying laugh. The Gnome picked up his guitar and soon had turned it into Woody's Blues which sounded oddly brilliant.