Zero energy. Achieved nothing other than idling, and when I wasn't idling I was loafing. And when I wasn't loafing I was sleeping. Wrote a quick and overdue letter for Anna this morning for the charity she has become involved with. Made chicken soup. Shuffled outside only to deadhead flowers as instructed by Janet as she left yesterday. Messaged by my beloved early this morning, who was awake in the middle of the night. Noticed the heated debate evolving around the picture of Louie below. Proving that, at best, dogs are provocative and controversial. More arrests today after the failed bombings in London, some even in Brighton.
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Laundry, shopping, cleaning etc. today. Made time to walk by the sea which was rough, windy and exhilarating. Lovely evening with Janet and Ken who came down to the twitten. Lots to catch up on. Janet has resigned from several boards recently and feels much freer. She was looking very well I thought, although she will be going to BC to see her sister, Anne who has been ill with cancer. Ken cheery as ever, at one point bursting into the kitchen, where I'd ducked in momentarily, to sing a verse of Shine on Harvey Moon . Talk too from Janet about a party for Ken as he is 75 at the end of November. He has just had a story rejected by the BBC. They were making me laugh with Janet trying to be rational about it far too early, as Ken still in the raging stage all too familiar to writers. Food I cooked turned out well too. Chicken stuffed with lemon, served with butternut squash, potato & parmesan mash, mushrooms fried with bacon and fresh sage, plus asparagus and carrots. Spoke to MJ...
Strange night, having been woken by seagulls, who are incredibly noisy and mad at this time of year. Nor do they sleep. Ten minutes of ransacking house and failing to find vital information for MJ, then and had to leg it off to the train. Nothing to read, battery ran out on my iPod shuffle, but instead enjoyed a wave of optimism about life, and me looking forward to MJ, Jack and Kate being here, and thinking what a good thing this will be for all of us. Racing into Glamoursmith, then off to Soho with Sam the director and Sandra the head of TV to record the voice over and sort the sound out on the ad. Cool to be in Soho and out of Glamoursmith for a bit. The actor was called Cal and a pleasant enough guy who did a good job for us. Now that the ad is coming together I am really quite proud of the job we have done, especially impressed with Sam's work. Ate pizza in the studio and was called by MJ while we broke for a bite. Then back to the agency for more slogging. Then...Hurrah! Foun...
Had to get into work ultra early today. Took Toby Kenny a cup of tea at 7:00 pm shortly before I left, and said a quick and non-drawn-out goodbye as he was flying home to Canada today. Dazed and tired on the early train. Armed police very visible this morning, even in Brighton. Must have seen two dozen policemen at Victoria, as this was a Thursday the day on which the recent bombings and attempted bombings have occurred. Got a note from Weezer this morning "Hello, Please look at this beautiful face, and tell me that you have the desire to knuckle him in the snout! Louie was very disappointed to hear that you don't like him!" This due to punch a dog day concept. Louie pictured below... I think people must draw their own conclusions. Although Louie is very sweet. However it is a fact that when I was a child, dogs made my life a misery. For example when I was about seven and innocently walking home from school and a dog put its paws on my shoulders, with its criminal face pa...
Execrable day. Hard at it all day, while pathetic Lilliputian agency politics rages and diminishes everyone within its ambit. Nice bit was escaping in the afternoon to present some work to my favourite client, Florence, who I'd not seen all year. She is getting married to Eddy next month. I told her about me and MJ. A moment of humanity in it all. The pathetic fallacy of rain and greyness all day. Evening much better. Meeting Toby Kenny at Victoria and returned to Brighton. Had a walk and a chat, and a nice spot of Thai grub. Messaging MJ, who sent me a link this morning for the Saints Bay hotel, which she had discovered in her researches. She is exceedingly wonderful.
Sluggish start today. Took my computer on the train and worked on a poem for the cancer pack. Into work and slogged all day, pausing only to go to the bank and stand in interminable queues. After work was collected by Little George and went to the Blue Anchor. She is somewhat in crisis having left university, is without an art director, having boyfriend problems, and has been in her own words sitting about in her joggers for a month. Naturally I did not miss the opportunity to dispense lofty and sagacious advice. Much amused by Weezer today who sent me a link to the Dorothy Puente cookbook. On the back: "DORTHEA PUENTE has been accused of a lot of things... being a bad cook isn't one of them". This I found very funny, although MJ informed me later that her researches had revealed that the author was a Satanist. Some unusual gentlemen in the US and no mistake.
Reading Shambhala, the sacred path of the warrior , by Chogyam Trungpa this morning on the train. Much better than pouring over newspapers going on about bombs and terrorists. When the term Warrior is used it "is taken from the Tibetan pawo , which literally means one who is brave ". One thing I enjoyed reading this morning was this... "The key to warriorship and the first principle of Shambhala vision is not being afraid of who you are. Ultimately, that is the definition of bravery: not being afraid of yourself. Shambhala vision teaches that, in the face of the world's great problems, we can be heroic and kind at the same time. Shambhala vision is the opposite of selfishness. When we are afraid of the seeming threat the world presents, then we become extremely selfish. We want to build our own little nests, our own cocoons, so they we can live by ourselves in a secure way. But we can be much more brave than that." Thus uplifted got on with the business of the d...
Slow start with hangover. Sudden onset of mini winter this morning with cold and rain. Up late, Toby shuffled into kitchen, to make coffee. Toby: "Why is the kettle on fire?" Went into kitchen to see him struggling with burning kettle in the sink. As spots of melting plastic dropped here and there it became clear that he had warmed electric kettle on the stove. In the afternoon we rallied to be out and about in Brighton again. Went back to the mad orientalist Pavilion, which I'd visited recently. Amazing place, full of dragons and serpents. Toby really enjoyed it too. After he left for London and I sloped about quietly for the rest of the day. Talking to Janet later and arranging to see her and Ken next weekend.
Sadder and wiser this morning after drinking too many of those fiendish and unpronounceable Polish beers in The Tin Drum yesterday. Had spent a nice day lurking about in Brighton with Toby, pausing to eat down by the sea at Al Fresco. Brighton looking especially pretty in the sun this afternoon as we walked about, with me detailing, for Toby's benefit, the many splendours of Mary Jane. Discovered that Brighton Museum is home to one of my favourite paintings, Early Morning by Dod Procter, which I last saw in the Tate in Liverpool with Carl. Then fatally, we met up with Brian, Anton, Anna and Baby Klauds in the Tin Drum, where those wrong Polish beers were drunk. Klauds crawling off at high speed outside every few minutes forcing constant retrieval. Later we all went back to Anton's place where we summoned another curry, this time quite a nice one. Got home and burbled to my beloved MJ until she suggested that bed was a good idea. Struck by the deep wisdom of this I obeyed. Tex...
A moment's passing anxiety on the train as we pulled into London. Reading about the latest bombers and how it was only incompetence that prevented them from doing further harm. Another busy day at work but quite fun. Then off to meet Toby at Victoria and then home to nice, safe old Brighton. Toby and MJ talking on the phone, with Toby telling her his story of living next door to Dorothea Puente , a female mass murderer in Sacramento, who ran a guest house and killed nine people that are known about burying them in the back garden, which Toby said stank in hot weather. Then the two of us sloped into Brighton for a walk down to the sea and pier then a few beers and a curry which was a bit indifferent but was fun nevertheless. Really good to have a night out with him, talking of many and diverse matters. Home and more talking, this time to my beloved MJ before drifting happily off to sleep.