Fortunately scary hatchet-faced woman turned out to be an impostor. At this point, however, nerves completely took over and I ordered an emergency gin and tonic. After my first sip I glimpsed a dark haired woman dressed in black walking towards the bar and I stood up. It was MJ and she looked beautiful. Had mental flash of Byron poem... She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meets in her aspect and her eyes; I just smiled at her and held out my arms into which MJ stepped in what was a stylish and unhurried way. It was an entirely movie moment. We hugged for ages and kissed each other. It was without a doubt one of the most romantic moments in my entire life. It is a strange Internet age we live in that you can know somebody so well over so many years without ever having looked into their eyes. And she has lovely hazel eyes. Meeting MJ after four or more years was one of those moments that will imprint
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Friday 25th March saw me in Manhattan. First impressions were extraordinary. Setting off early from the hotel I found myself on Broadway, and in a song. The immensity of the buildings initially provoked a kind of agoraphobia -- the place didn't seem to be on a human scale. But after a while you adjust, and as I did I realised that Manhattan is an extraordinary place. I spent about six or seven hours walking. First I went to the site of the twin towers, Ground Zero. The immensity of the site is so powerful, it brings alive again the atrocity of the attack. I now believe that before anyone can attempt to understand the current psyche of the US, you have to stand there. Extremely moving. I took a few photos, which I may post here later. Then I began a long walk towards central park. New Yorkers are friendly people I think, more so than Londoners. One or two spontaneously greeted me as I walked through places like Time Square, past Madison Square Gardens, popped into Maceys to buy a bi
From Moleskine notebook : Friday 25th March 7:15 am Soho Grand hotel New York. "Opted for chemical and booze free flight to JFK New York. However, after three hours of unspeakable turbulence a gin and tonic became an irresistible notion. Felt waves of claustrophobia too squeezed into the back of the plane with its rancid, germ-filled air next to another gentleman of generous girth. Actually quite a nice guy from NY and had some chats with him, and he was useful in giving me an idea of how much I should be paying for cabs and so on. Information which allowed me to sidestep the usual rip off merchants on arrival. Yellow cab to Manhattan. Quite misty and foggy and not much to be seen and then... pow! What a beautiful sight! From afar there is almost a fairytale quality about all those glittering colourful towers. Then almost straight away this made me think again about how immense the twin towers must have been. Hotel found satisfactorily. Check in took well over an hour, however, as
Just grabbing a few minutes before I zoom off to Soho for the voice-over being recorded on a bumper ad -- which will be run before and after a cable TV programme. Work better today. Article I wrote on Taboo has been well received, and me and Mike's brand ad work we are doing for pets charity mentioned in DM bulletin today. Feeling like a cat myself today. One that needs to go crazy and run around the walls with my claws out. I am flying to New York TOMORROW! I will meet MJ on Friday! Had an excellent night out last night with Matty boy, French Bloke, Max, and work gang. Was part II of Carole-Anne's leaving bash. Went to the splendid Anglesea Arms and we boys ate oysters which are good for gentlemen due to their zincy goodness. Watched Max and French Bloke have a hilarious slow motion argument with each argumentative utterance delivered with all the ritual of Japanese tea ceremony. Honour preserved on both sides. Ended up staying with the boys, had a sentimental nightcap with Mi
Decision to instate Anna and Baby Klauds as personal shoppers proved inspired. Ended up with bags of clothes and had a really good time. Anna determinedly cheerful and goal oriented. And Baby Klauds pointing decisively to stuff she liked too. After a couple of hours of happy progress we tried Food for Friends vegetarian restaurant where the food was nice and service friendly. Baby Klauds engaged in stabbing plates with knives. Greatly refreshed, we resumed shopping and met Anton who was sulking and was taking photographs of changing rooms, apparently for Miasma . The four of us then went to the Tin Drum for Polish beer. Then home and brief chats with Mum and MJ went back up the hill to babysit as A&A were out with Christian and Jane to see mind bender Derren Brown. Luckily Brian was there too and we phoned in for pizza and had a good chat. Baby Klauds a model of behaviour till the last hour of intermittent grizzling when I had to go up and sit with her. Very pleased to see Anton r
Sunday morning. Beautiful day again. Yesterday spent a cheerful few hours lurking in town with Anton happily slipping into music shops and book shops, and stopping at every clothes shop en route . Haul when I returned home was one tee-shirt, a second-hand, pocket-sized edition of Shakespeare sonnets and a some trendy Brighton record featuring Alice Russell, which when Anton and I played it we couldn't work out whether it was to be played at 33 or 45. Sounded rather good at both speeds. Can't seem to find clothes in my size. In desperation went to a shop called High & Mighty for taller and more corpulent gentlemen but I seem quite a bit too small for everything in there. Sadly a decision had to be made. By mutual agreement it was decided to free Anton to seek fresh challenges as personal clothes shopper, and I have instated Anna and Baby Klauds as on a consultancy basis. They are coming to collect me this morning. Afternoon spent recovering. Still frustratingly weak and shak
Beautiful sunny morning in Brighton. Seems to be intermittent thick sea mist and lovely warm sun. Just had immense breakfast of kippers and toast and now gulping coffee number two. I am girding loins to go shopping with Anton. At least it will be bloke's shopping: clothes so as not to repel MJ or be not pelted with stones in New York, cds (me), records (anton) and books (both) plus whatever Anton's craze du jour is. Have been fiddling with poems again. These are not random poems rather two poems that have been hanging about unsatisfactorily. I used to come to Brighton a lot many years ago when my friends Tim and Rosa lived here, and I passed near where they lived the other day in Hove. Yesterday found this unfinished poem about their wedding day. Unfortunately both are long dead now from aids. I have written poems about them which have been published. But this one has never been finished. It is a bit odd but it derives from the fact I was best man at their wedding and knew the
A burst of happiness. After cringing at home for most of the week with this damned virus I just went out for an hour. A bit of warmth at last, the sky blue and the air clean and fresh. Walked down into the lanes popping into a few record shops and infinity foods to browse among their mystifying selection of organic and vegetarian foods. People happy to be in the first warmth of the year and full of Friday cheerfulness. Bought myself a celebratory copy of Hejira by Joni Mitchell. Wending my way home full of happy thoughts about seeing MJ in New York next weekend, bumped into Anna and baby Klauds queuing outside the patisserie (whose bread sells like hot cakes). Realised how lucky I was to be in Brighton and to be so close to people I care about. Suddenly my gloom has abated and, with a burst of happiness, I realised how lucky I am that I belong to my own life.
Beautiful day in Brighton. Warmth in the sun as I yet again I strode down into the lanes to the doctor's surgery to flickers of recognition from receptionists. Saw marvellous and thorough South African doctor again. She told me she thought I had a virus and told me to take the rest of the week off. I was feeling a good deal better today, however, and ended up working fairly hard at home to try to make up some ground for yesterday. Am also writing a piece for a pharmaceutical magazine about taboo -- for which the deadline is tomorrow. I am defining taboo as the collision of an uncomfortable emotion, with social structures and convention. And often, when this collision occurs, the result is silence. For example most men who experience erection problems or incontinence don't ever go to the doctor to seek help, and they prefer to suffer in silence. I am describing the ways of breaking down these taboos so that people can ask for the help they need. Got an anonymous posting yesterda
Dreadful nightmares last night. Tsunami dream where I first saw a huge wave engulfing Brighton, and then was indoors again, realising that I lived up the hill and might be okay. Opened a window to discover my house had moved right next to the water and a vast wave was rushing towards me. Next one was that I was at a computer and my inbasket was full of email with no subject or sender. They appeared as black bands across the page, I clicked on one and the screen went black. I knew then the email was about death. I started awake, certain in my half asleep state that I was about to die that minute. Woke up this morning feeling extremely rough. No idea what is wrong, perhaps some sort of chest infection, feel completely drained and have intermittent fever. Went to the station and sat in the train waiting for it to leave. But after a few minutes I felt very poor and dizzy. Got off the train before it left and returned to bed and slept for several hours. Worrying about work and the deadlines
Had an apointment at the medical centre today so shunned the smoke and worked ineffectually from home. Efforts to avoid hysterical white coat syndrome involved listening to relaxation tape and being sent white light from New York. Delighted that blood pressure is now more or less normal -- and I don't need pills. Tranquil nurse called Jill was excellent. She implied she was famous for her calming personality so I asked her for her photo to carry as a dark ages charm. This was refused. But the experience was so much nicer than BUPA anxiety factory and of the low weasels that worked there. Otherwise I worked steadily towards my goal of becoming most boring man on South Coast of England.
Lazy Sunday. Woke up really early and still managing to feel tired. Downstairs went onto my computer to discover by msg that MJ and Kate were up vomiting in the middle of the night. Later, and almost against will, ended up speaking to comedic Tenerelli about stealthily punching pensioners on the Paris metro for being French. Back to funky furniture place this afternoon with Anton, Anna and Baby Klauds. I scored an L shaped couch and a red Chinese cabinet. Owners capering about helpfully and doing good post-decision stuff about cabinet saying that it was a good choice etc. Couch is a goldish colour and will be delivered in April. What a relief! Anton managed to cram cabinet and a large chest he and Anna had bought into their big car which was impressive. Lift home with chinese cabinet, which even hours later I am still pleased with. Anton claims to be creating the world's first novel (called Miasma) to be written on a mobile phone. Only problem is he keeps forgetting word miasma. Sp
Saturday saw me springing up from bed with a song on my lips to head down Trafalgar Street to the marvellous Patisserie. As I emerged from my Twitten I bumped into Anton and Baby Klauds returning from said patisserie. Anton and me sporting identical hoody tops. Sometimes I catch him copying my mannerisms and walk too. He worries me. Reaching the place of baked goodness I saw they had some little madeleine cakes so I bought a couple as I’d never tasted them. Having once read required chapters of Proust I wanted to understand how their taste could bring about a moment of being whisked back through time to an unconscious memory. Although clearly never having eaten one this wasn’t going to happen to me. They were nice but far too buttery and sweet to sit well with current health neuroses. Chewy brown bread on the other hand excellent and manly. Returned home to book a flight to New York for Easter, for these days I am the sort of Peter Kenny who does such things. I have been invited to Eas
Two nights in Ealing. Last night sleeping on a sofa at Michel and Matty's place after a works night out in a restaurant called the Tyrolian Hut, where everyone got involved with much stein quaffing and worrying at weinerschnitzel. Manic drinking cheerfulness. Reminding me of this from rathergood.com . After attending to these matters, and particularly enjoying Aron's rather good essays at Russian dancing, left the restaurant with the French bloke, and caught a sherbert dab to Ealing to sleep soundly. The night before I had also found myself in Ealing sleeping on a futon with three cats. Had been out with Louise in Covent Garden and strapped on the nosebag in a pleasant French place. Was very sad to hear about her having had an ovarian cyst removed in November, and she became quite upset telling me about it. Still, it was very nice to have our annual meal and catch up, despite being glared at by people in the restaurant for making her cry. This morning at work very early after h
This morning's random poem. 090305/Qwerty madness Father, let us drag these antiques to the sea The Ionian seems right, its pellucid water Filled with classical mullet and blenny. Let’s give these typewriters no quarter Monstrous and clunky, with missing ' P 's And ribbons that won’t work like they oughter. My business keyboard is appealingly grey Never to distract my eyes from the screen. I honour my workstation every day For work makes free as one of the team With every chance to socialise and play. Sometimes I get this interrupting dream: A strange qwerty question of RSI And wha pp exactly ha ppppp ens when you pp ie.
Jarred ankle painfully this morning as I jerked violently awake from a dream about antique typewriters being thrown into the sea. Got to the station with 30 seconds to spare, a shorter train than usual meant I had to stand most of the way, trying to keep weight off dratted ankle and reading Freud. I am ashamed to say I have never read anything by Freud until now. I hate the way he writes, or maybe it’s a small brain thing but I seem to have to reread the sentences so many times that I lose interest. And when I do join up the thinking I profoundly disagree with what he is saying. For example where he is discussing various routes to happiness: “… the way of life that places love at the centre of everything and expects all satisfaction to come from loving and being loved. This kind of mental attitude comes naturally enough to us all; one manifestation of love, sexual love, has afforded us the most potent experience of overwhelming pleasure and thereby set a pattern for our quest for happi
Slow tumble into tiredness today. Little to recommend the day, which makes me feel irritated. I don't like nothing days. Work unspeakable. Commuted, and wrote random poem. Life better at home: messaged lovely MJ and cooked spaghetti. A while ago Phil came over to my desk at work and said "will you look after this" to me, handing me a piece of paper. On looking at it I discovered he had typeset "this" on it. Sadly that sort of thing makes me laugh hysterically. A few days later in the bar, he thoughtfully stuffed about a hundred similar pieces into my wallet. Fumbling in my wallet for a credit card in Marks & Spencer yesterday one of these came to hand. I offered it to the cashier, "do you take this ?" which I at least found funny. Telling Andy about it today he suggested that we should launch a credit card called "this" and promptly mocked one up on his mac. Then we decided to steal the idea from Phil and not cut him in. You read it first
Day of quiet and enjoyable contemplation. In a bit of a dream. Visited the market by the station and bought leeks. Made leek soup to own recipe which for some reason tasted like swill but was healthy. Spoke to Mum who was busy doing Spanish homework. Went for a walk, with ankle standing up to things quite well now, and looked at the old burnt pier. Thought that it looked like a dinosaur, and when you got close it becomes abstract and full of crazy lines.
Zombie dawn, very little sleep and hungover after lost agency afternoon yesterday. A chorus of seagulls in yarping competition outside my window. Sat about feebly this morning drinking green tea and feeling something less than splendid. Received a nice note from a discerning Under Another Sun reader in Kew, however. Funny really. When I write this blog it is so easy to forget that it is actually on the Internet and people sometimes read it. Much more fun than writing in a diary and leaving it in your desk. Painted things white again in the afternoon. Today it was bits of the bathroom and my teeshirt. Anton dropped by and we drank green tea and mineral water. Poor Baby Klauds has new vomiting virus which Anton is hoping to catch for diet purposes. Shaila called me today about to watch her son play hockey somewhere freezing. She is still being matter of fact about surviving tsunami, which I find curiously unsatisfying. Spoke to the exotic MJ again today on a variety of top-level and pre
Marvellous night out in Brighton with Mark last night. It did my heart good to see a friend from my younger days. He is a decent, honorable man who has succeeded in corporations, but has remained a very human being. Curiously he feels a sense of failure, or at least work to be done, despite reaching levels which in other people would represent ultimate success. This is because his horizons are wider and not now all about work. Met in the Battle of Trafalgar and drank within sight of an open fire as it was a cold night. Then off walking into town to eat tappas. Tellingly he was phoned by an underling at 10:00 pm and had to step out into the cold to have some top level discussion or other. I recommended a sabbatical. Travelled to work through rain and snow reading Freud's Civilization and its Discontents which I find horribly slow going and disagree with something on every page. At work attended a meeting about personal development. Then off to the pub to celebrate Carol-Anne's
Thursday morning finds me working at home again. Room is full of winter sun and I'm feeling good. Decided not to put on the radio and the world today, instead listening to Joni Mitchell's song Sweet Bird . She is the poet's choice of songwriters. Yesterday began with laboriously rerouted journey to work. Quite snowy near the coast and it gave me the opportunity to write a random poem. Reuben texted me to say that he and Anton were on another part of the train. Contented myself with texting back a commiseration to Reub as it was too crammed to attempt to leave my seat, despite the fact I was sat between two unspeakable bloaters. Went for a swim in the afternoon after working through lunch waiting for a meeting that never happened. Enjoyed this although only able to do backstroke with any persistence, and my various injuries made it through okay. Had a small-brain attack this afternoon as I was convinced I was meeting Mark. Consulted diary ten minutes before meeting (after st
Jerked awake in a Pavlovian style at seven, despite having forgotten to put my alarm on. Hobbled downstairs for hurried porridge and simultaneous scan of email. Joan had thoughtfully sent me a photo of Ontario's favourite intrepid feline . MJ in a huff with me so had to reply to an email, which compelled me to employ stumbling but rapid orc-like shuffle to make it down the hill to catch the train by the skin of my fangs. Irrationally quite bitter on the train about absence of servants. Reflecting how extraordinary it is, now we have reached the 21st century, that the t-shirt I had to fling on the floor would still be there when I got home, as will the washing up. Best practice re food and drink abandoned today. Michel back from snow boarding in the alps with Max. Over a nice lunch of seabass (me) and brill (French Bloke) and a bottle of wine he was very funny about how his Winnebago (aka the pimp wagon) still has a breakdown ratio of more than one per journey. He said he had briefl