under another sun

Lorraine up at sixish this morning, and so was I up early to London working on the train, but feeling absolutely shattered and sore throaty and only in the end ten minutes early. Dragged by butt through the day, which seemed to go on forever. Yawning in the airless office, I melted away to stand in Tavistock Square for a few minutes just try to wake myself up a bit. Eventually home, in a crowded delayed train, listening to the Martin Amis book Zone of Interest , which I think should be much more interesting than it is. It is relentlessly banal but maybe that is the point. Then straight to The Shakespeare's Head to meet Lorraine, Betty, John, and Rosie where we had some sausages and mash and a few quiet beers. A real thank God it's Friday feeling. Later joined by Betty's pal Laura, and Matt and a Turkish friend Yasin who I really enjoyed talking to about his participated in the Gezi Park protests last year. Much gossiping and chatting, and very pleased to have got to the...

Up to London again. Settled into the train along with everyone else, but the driver never arrived. A pleasantly busy day at work once I got there. A rainy day which meant I could deploy my new Berghaus and watch with satisfaction the raindrops beading on its surface, rather than simply soaking in as my last coat, lost on the Brighton train, did. After work off to meet Paul, currently aka Dr Spacetoad at St Pancras. We settled into a pub and had a couple of pints and an interesting catch up. David Ryan, who had run the anarchic Troubadour poetry nights I used to religiously attend in the late 80s and early 90s had died, and he was going to his funeral. He is currently living up north, having moved back to Blighty from Paris. He speaks with some feeling about Paris, and says he is disillusioned with it. Noticed that Paul does the weird elbow thing I do, which I've not noticed in others before. Interesting to hear some of Paul's adventures as a modern Troubadour, and we parted...