On the train this morning thinking about cats and dogs and scribbling ideas for internet banners on my pad, finishing The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe , and thinking about how I can make something of a raw blurt of a poem I added to this site last year after my last visit to Dick and Joan's farm in Ontario with Toby and Romy. The morning train ride is excellent for thinking. It is the fact of sitting quietly for an hour with no distractions when my meagre brain is at its best. At work had interminable conversations about the TV ad, where everybody is saying the same thing... but nobody is listening. Tiresome. Presented banners of cats and dogs, wrote stuff about computers, and went for another swim at lunchtime and returned home (blamelessly) and talked to Mum and MJ who will shortly meet, an event about which MJ is naturally apprehensive. MJ is rushing about in a frenzy and her foot is bad and she thinks she may have tetanus, so is seeing the doctor tomorrow. Meanwhile Kate has...
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Find myself reading the children's book The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis again. Noticed this time how the younger boy is seduced by the Witch with addictive turkish delight. A temptation which when placed in the context of the chief enemy of Narnia, The Calormenes (worshipers of false god Tash) in The Last Battle having Islamic characteristics, becomes more significant. Apart from that went to work, went for a manly swim at lunchtime and headed home for a blameless evening of eating a Chinese takeaway and speaking to the exquisite MJ who was made me laugh by describing Louisiana as "an alien planet -- with alligators ".
Marginally sadder and wiser this morning after combined excesses of volleyball and wine. Bumped into Max and the FB on the way into the dark place. Lots of work to do first thing, and set about it. Mike being increasingly comedic these days. Explaining about my manly weekend and he went into long monolgue about what was really manly was drinking clotting blood from a bowl like the man in a recent UK TV programme called Tribe, and that going to a Gentleman's hairdressers didn't really count. Went for a walk in Glamoursmith at lunch and it was making me think about the "frights" in Bath as mentioned in Persuasion.... Lots of unorthadox faces about. Lots of bad temper too in the heat.
Quietly working on a poem this morning, when I heard a anguished grief-stricken shrieking coming from one of the houses behind mine. As if somebody had heard about a death. Went outside ineffectually but somewhat alarmed. Nothing I could do I think. Noticed that someone had torn off the flower of the big lily in my front garden in the night, for the second time this summer, which was a bit infuriating seeing as I had been in all night. Spoke to Janet on Saturday who said that my roses needed deadheading. Which I had done that morning. Made me laugh that Janet is keeping a critical eye on my flora. However today was the day of Matty boy's surprise party. Lurked briefly in the market before hand trying to buy another cushion cover but the man was no longer there. Spooner was however with Alison and the two bairns. The eldest straining willfully at his reins and covered in chicken pox. Off to Ealing for the surprise party. Although I was late I was still in time to participate in the ...
A day of manly acts. First manly act was to build bunk beds for when Jack and Kate come. Felt like the incredible hulk lifting one on top of the other. Actually not too difficult to build and the instructions didn't include a "swear violently now section". Now have to decide what to do with all the stuff I have taken out of my spare room. There is a law of physics that states that however much space you have, there will never be enough room. Second manly act was to go to the barbers. I have been going to Nicki for about 11 years but, goaded by MJ who thinks my attachment to Nicki is unnatural (now I have buffoon's hair and Nicki is on holiday) I went to regular barbers in Brighton. Hair dresser (to back of my head): God you've got enough of it there. (accusingly) You've had a go at it yourself! (aside to mate) Got my work cut out here. He's only had a go at it himself... Mate: He what? HD: Had a go at himself... No wonder we're going out of business......
Been reading a collection of Attila Jozsef's poetry in a translation done in the US by Peter Hargitai in the eighties called Perched on nothing's branch . Some interesting work, but impossible for me to know how well he has been served by his translator. Making me think however of last year dodging the rain on St Margaret's island in Budapest with my mum. Took a photo of her beside one of several writers: the boy Attila himself. (picture below). I wrote a couple of lines about these melancholy dripping busts: Postcard from St Margaret's Island, Budapest Near the ruined abbey The stone souls of Hungary. Writers unknown to us Faces runnelled with rain. The truth is a day in the rain. But infinitely more mysterious and interesting is this example from the Attila Jozsef himself... Rain it rains rains dust curdles on bodies thunder-ring can you hear them pounding on our hearts? naked to run to run towards the forest with open arms rain rain you hold out your tiny finger for ...
Pooterish day. Germy Anton entirely to blame for 48hour bug. Which gripped me on Wednesday afternoon and forced me to take Thursday off work and slept heavily. Woken by Anton calling around feeling much better and unspeakably bouncy, taking advantage of my grogginess by ridiculing my hair, which has turned into risible comedy hair due to Nicki being on holiday for two weeks. Felt a little better by the evening and applied scissors to hair. A community woman police officer called round to collect the credit cards which were thrown over my fence on Saturday night. I had to put them in a bag so that she didn't put her dabs on them. I meanwhile had covered them in mine, so I will probably be arrested in five years. Noticed one of the cards had the woman's d.o.b on it, and it was the day they were stolen. Organising poems on my computer as they are in loads of places. Discovered some letters Tim wrote to me shortly before he died, which made me very sad. He was pretty much on his de...
Saw Shaila on Monday evening. Walked along the river to the Dove for a cold glass of wine and fortifying plates of roasted vegetables and goats cheese. She attribes her manifest health and vitality to a weekly one day fast and a strict vegetarian diet, but I suspect she has a wizened Dorian Gray style portrait in an attic. Really nice to talk to her about school days and so on, and how, thirty years ago, our teenage friendship was a bridge that helped each other understand one other's cultures. Swimming again on Monday and Tuesday. Lost my locker key in the deep end, lots of sumoesque padding about trying to organise the retrieval of clothes etc. Tuesday went out with Anton in Brighton. Good news is that it looks like he will be able to secure work. He was ill though, and we had a restrained Chinese meal and a fairly early night. Today feeling very underpowered and drained myself, which I blame entirely on Anton, and left work early to return home. Working on poems on the train la...
Another heatwave. Went early to look at the market behind the station and bumped into Anna and Anton at one of the food stalls. Sat down and had a thick piece of cheese on toast with them. Baby Klauds sporting shades (below) and looking cool. Impulse bought two Indian cushion covers and wondered, momentarily, what is becoming of me. They suit my room excellently however. Plunged into the sea for a swim late this afternoon which, once the sound of your own screaming abates, is fine. Brighton heaving with people smelling of sunblock and sweat. Today's moment of magic... Walking along by the sea and being passed by a man on a penny farthing bicycle. Had long chats with MJ. She really is the Platonic ideal of a woman. Talking to her on Brighton Pier looking at the sunset thanks to the miracle of mobile phone technology. Almost like we were there together. After popped into a bar on the way home and listened to a guy with a guitar sing standards, which I quite enjoyed. Also spoke to Mum...
Rather lively afternoon yesterday, culminating in sitting outside the Dove by the river with the French Bloke, Matty Boy, Paul, Craig, Bei Li, and Taranjit. Then sleeping all the way home on the train, returning home with Chinese food and chattering to MJ. Today was a fabulous day with a deep blue sky. And the Twitten looked gleaming and full of flowers. Sent some poems to a publisher, drank coffee and played guitar in my tiny garden before setting out into the world. Shaila called me this morning and we've arranged to meet up next week. Very cheerful as I wandered around the thronging lanes. Just such a buzz about the place, with people crowding the streets outside cafes and pubs. Brighton is a fantastic place on a day like today. Went to the Pavilion and bought a copy of the doll's exhibition catalogue for Johanna Pie. Walking through the little park came across a guy called Paul Harrison playing a harp-like instrument of his own invention called the xpiano, which he has buil...
Up with the seagulls at six thirty and dabbed a bit of paint and pottered about generally doing things. Despite early start I still managed to miss my stupid train. Finished reading The Magician's Nephew . Feel like a bit of an idiot reading children's books on the train, people looking at you thinking poor thing . Client told the suits that she could feel the hairs go up on the back of her neck when we were presenting the TV concepts yesterday. Which makes Mike and Me big and clever for a bit. Went to the boozer at lunchtime with Pat and the French Bloke, being mildly rebuked by the barmaid for not having been in there for ages. Pat, the FB and me talked of many and diverse matters so deeply that we were compelled to remain there all afternoon. Home and talked to MJ for ages too, between scarfing a Chinese takeaway and dozing happily on my gold-coloured sofa.
Much improved day today. Managed to travel on train, without wanting to stab people, reading The Magician's Nephew by CS Lewis. Particularly attentive to the chapter The Wood between the Worlds which describes a wood full of puddles where the children magically appear. The description of the wood, which is green and limbo-like with puddles that are portals into other worlds was something that has remained with me ever since I read it as a child. Like the detail of the children finding a guinea pig that the boy's evil uncle had previously sent there. Presented the concepts for the TV ad to our charity client today and these went down very well. I need a boost and, with any luck, this could be it. Fun talking about shoots etc, rather than writing copy about bad backs. They are seeming to favour one where I nicked the idea from Wings of Desire ... Being able to hear the thoughts of parents while they are sitting with their sick children. Fingers crossed. Spoke to MJ before I set ...
Called by Anton this morning from the London train but I failed to find him. Squinted at Hopkins poems on the train having no glasses with me. Then bumped into Spoons briefly at Victoria and had a conversation about diamonds. Wrote all day and left feeling angry and cross, despite doing some good work. Horrid commute home, getting into a minor altercation with a jostling man boarding the train. Blessedly at home. But while speaking to lovely MJ I managed to say something ratty sounding just to round the day off nicely. However, on a more edifying note... The Pies are quoted as the authorities they are in this article in the independent the other day, which MJ sent me this morning. Tomorrow Mike and I present our TV concepts to the client. Noticed today that I have comedy hair again. Perhaps I should use it as a prop.
Woke up early this morning, with the sun bright in my window with Gerard Manley Hopkins opening to the Windhover running through my head. I caught this morning morning's minion,king- dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding... Sprung, (rhythmically) from bed and am setting about the business of Monday feeling cheerful. And loving the idea of being morning's minion myself. Busy and productive weekend. Saturday working on Anton and Anna's house in Southsea to get it ready for it being rented. Christian also came too and we had a laugh together as we painted the upstairs, while Anton, the little corporal, got busy downstairs. Ate pies for lunch in what was a beautiful day, and then after the ghastly business was all over back to Anton's for a takeaway curry and beer. On the way back spoke to MJ and Anton reported conversation to Anna later as a sickening "I love you baby" fest. Klauds being adorable this weekend. She was sitting on m...
Happily at home after a what ended up being a good week at work. Working hard on the TV concepts, and this seems to have paid off with two or three strong ideas. Spent lots of time today watching footage the agency had previously shot in the hospital of desperately ill children. It's a cliche... But the work the hospital does is amazing, and so are its staff. Sloped off to the Riverside Studios with Tracey for a liquid lunch of mineral water and coffee. Lurked in a dark corner talking about relationships, psychology and so on for an hour. Phoned the delectable MJ this evening and both of us excitable about her coming over to Blighty with Jack and Kate in the first week of July. I can't wait.
First ever Brighton CSR tonight. CSRs have been going on for about seven years and they are Copy Shop Reunions, where Kate, Reuben and me get together for beers. The excuse is that we all worked in something we called the Copy Shop in IBM. For both Reuben and Kate it was their first writing jobs, and I hired them. Previously Reuben had worked with trucks and Kate (often barefoot) sold lucky lavender near Waterloo station. What they both seem to overlook -- and logic dictates this of course -- is that any subsequent success they have had in any field of endeavor is directly attributable to me, and is somehow my idea. Kate and I met the Reubster in The Great Eastern, a pub inches away from the all you can eat Chinese restaurant where Kate and I had chop sticked steadily in preparation. Having given blood Kate applied herself to replacing it with Guinness. As usual, generous amount of laughs to be had, and later as Kate had to head back to the smoke, we drifted up the road to the Camdenis...