Just back from Brighton, where we stayed with Anton and Anna in their new house in Brighton. Such a cool town, lively and artistic. Can't wait to move down there too when someone eventually buys our house in Kew.
Neck glowing attractively as a consequence of lurking in the sun this bank holiday afternoon. Was with Mrs Kenny, Anton, Anna and Trotsky in Brighton. Trotsky is cat. She likes flies, loathes seagulls and enjoys car rides and comes when Anton whistles like an only slightly aloof dog. We spent a couple of hours this afternoon sitting in their back garden watching Trotsky scrabble about clumsily in a almond tree, and trying to decide whether they should go for the blanquette or champagne at their wedding. The decision process involved bottles of each and an inexplicable desire for pizza.
Interspersed between hanging out by the seaside and going to bars and restaurants, we talked about the poem they've asked me to write for their wedding. I think I have a plan now. But although I am an attention seeking egomaniac, I get twitchy at the prospect of stepping into the middle of the actual wedding ceremony and reading a poem. If it is all wrong it will be a minor disaster. I have now four days to write it before it has to be faxed to the registrar. Yikes.
Otherwise I went for a bike ride in the sun on Sunday morning along the Thames. I almost got bicycle rage as I've never seen the tow path so clogged with people and other swine on bikes getting in the way. Don't they understand that this is for me alone?
Then fiddled about with AnotherSun for a few hours. Arghh! It takes so long.
Depressingly I am also ballooning to sumoesque proportions again. No surprise after all the drinking and eating I've been doing lately untempered by any exercise. Thin gruel is what I need from now on, thin gruel with an occasional water side-dish.
Neck glowing attractively as a consequence of lurking in the sun this bank holiday afternoon. Was with Mrs Kenny, Anton, Anna and Trotsky in Brighton. Trotsky is cat. She likes flies, loathes seagulls and enjoys car rides and comes when Anton whistles like an only slightly aloof dog. We spent a couple of hours this afternoon sitting in their back garden watching Trotsky scrabble about clumsily in a almond tree, and trying to decide whether they should go for the blanquette or champagne at their wedding. The decision process involved bottles of each and an inexplicable desire for pizza.
Interspersed between hanging out by the seaside and going to bars and restaurants, we talked about the poem they've asked me to write for their wedding. I think I have a plan now. But although I am an attention seeking egomaniac, I get twitchy at the prospect of stepping into the middle of the actual wedding ceremony and reading a poem. If it is all wrong it will be a minor disaster. I have now four days to write it before it has to be faxed to the registrar. Yikes.
Otherwise I went for a bike ride in the sun on Sunday morning along the Thames. I almost got bicycle rage as I've never seen the tow path so clogged with people and other swine on bikes getting in the way. Don't they understand that this is for me alone?
Then fiddled about with AnotherSun for a few hours. Arghh! It takes so long.
Depressingly I am also ballooning to sumoesque proportions again. No surprise after all the drinking and eating I've been doing lately untempered by any exercise. Thin gruel is what I need from now on, thin gruel with an occasional water side-dish.
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