under another sun

Hot under the collar Up early to complete work on writing answers to some questions I'd been asked for a Guernsey Literary Festival blog. The amazing weather continuing. Feeling much repaired today. As I worked, new second home neighbours opposite using noisy and unnecessary garden tools. A blowers on for minutes to convey three leaves and a piece of paper across their small decking. This soon replaced by the continuous sound of protesters just outside Brighton Station. An unpleasant neo-fascist group called March for England had dragged their knuckles to congregate outside The Railway Bell, Brighton's worst pub, and outside the station there were dozens of policemen, some mounted, plus police helicopters flying overhead. There was also a sizeable anti-fascist counter demonstration, singing things like Racist Scum... Off our streets , and Police protect the Nazis . Eventually the marches were fed through town in separate directions. Lorraine and I dragged bits about in the deb...

Jumping giant mushrooms First thing this morning, the strange sensation of my brain scrambling back in my skull having been out clubbing for a couple of days, or having weird brain-only sex in a carpark. Consequently found myself able to form sentences and work on poems about Guernsey, and various blogs and sites in preparation for my Guernsey trip next week. In the evening went up to hang out with Anton. He had cued up Marquee Moon by Television, and The Yes Album by Yes. Good to hear those ancient 70s favourites on vinyl through Anton's superduper stereo. Both the products of people trying their hardest to do something different, and so they sound quite fresh still. After a fine repast of toad in the hole we repaired upstairs to play the Wii driving game, without the interference of children. Anna found us driving furiously on the sofa some time later, jumping over giant mushrooms on the screen. I drive a pink car with a girl driver and wings, as this is Klaudia's car I got...