There's only one thing worse than the humbug Still in the grip of the humbug. I can't remember the last time I felt quite so ill, for so long. Ear ache like being bayoneted in the side of the head, coughing all night, fever, a throat so sore it wakes you up if you swallow, all resulting in an exhausted kind of insomnia. I'm being the least festive guest imaginable for Mum and Mas. Still, it could be worse. Actually, it was worse yesterday, after the appalling assassination of Benazir Bhutto. The facebook group I had created called (and this does not seem at all big and clever now) I secretly fancy Benazir Bhutto caused me some anxiety, especially as a rabid Canadian reporter tried to get me to sell my story. There were concerned email too from some of the group's members so the only thing to do was delete the group. This, thanks to the humbug's ability to scramble thought, I completely bungled - deleting myself as administrator before I'd deleted all group&#
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The humbug strikes Bloody hell. On Christmas eve, after swapping presents with Lorraine, and Anna and Anton, and the babes, and popping around to Janet and Ken for a festive cup of tea I left for London. On the train I discovered that the tiredness I was experiencing was not solely the result of an enthusiastic day's drinking with Matty, but was in fact "the humbug" - a virus that times itself perfectly to wipe out Christmas in a blur of fever, exhausting coughing bouts, and the sorest of sore throats. The humbug? Bah to it. I feel sorry for Mum, as Mas also has the humbug and so she has been surrounded by stereo man flu all Christmas, which must have been unendurable. Watched some DVDs - Apocalypto, which was a film purporting to be about Mayan history but actually was mainly about the director's disturbed obsession with the pornographic violence. If I had more energy I would rant more about this. I also watched I Robot, which was mindless and undemanding fun. Being
Quaffing Harvey's in fog-shrouded Lewes Off today to Lewes to meet Matty, and his sister Tash and her boyfriend Dunc, and Graeme who lives near Matt down on Strand on the Green. Leaving Brighton on the short hop to Lewes was quite magical. A couple of minutes from Brighton Station the fog began, and as the train climbed up through the mysterious outline of hills, the sun swathed by fog, visible as a low white disc. In Lewes laboured up the foggy hill to meet Matty et al in the Lewes Arms, and from there we all went on a pub crawl through half a dozen of the finest pubs in Lewes, with Matty being greeted fondly in many of them. Excellent to be able to walk through this fascinating historical town in seasonally Dickensian fog. Lots of beer was drunk, and by the end of the evening Matty, Graeme and I played some pool and had many many earnest and enjoyable conversations. Finally I was collected by the lovely Lorraine who, like a guardian angel, drove me home.
The burning of the clocks Most of the day surging up and down on the emotional rollercoaster that is shopping. It is exhausting to dither about between shops, and trying not to get side-tracked. Shopping is NOT my strongpoint, but I cleverly avoided going into a pub instead, and made some steady progress by the end of the day. Shortly after six I met Anton in the Eddy for a cheeky beer, and then we shot off through town down to the seafront to meet Rick and his bairns for the burning of the clocks. Compared to last year there didn't seem to be so many clocks, but still it was a good thing to watch - culminating in the burning of a Tower of Babel (a good idea) and fireworks. We were standing at the Terrace bar, with a good view of the procession, and handily able to sip a second beer there too. Then Lorraine arrived, just in time to see the fireworks, as Anton began to slip into hypothermia - then we taxied back to Anton's place for champagne, a tasty pasta carbonara and apple p
Of time and My Little Pony Wonderful to be able to wake up at 9:00 and know the Christmas season stretched before me. Christmas, and of course, the pre-Christmas scramble to do all the things that each year I promise myself I would do in November. Spent hours hunting addresses to send some cards off. The e-revolution has killed snail mail. I can text my friends, I can email them, I can facebook them, I can connect telephaticallly with some of them, but do I have their actual addresses? Then off to get a haircut, as the sheep thing was happening. He didn't make the top so short so the Area of Concern wasn't gleaming through too much. Lorraine came into the barbers and we walked down the hill to the shops. I went off in search of a purple My Little Pony and found one in Woolworth's. Then went to a couple of other shops. Depressingly quickly, my sensitive artistic temperament was in tatters - so I had to have a beer, and Lorraine joined me before sneaking off to get hypnotised
The Gnome, imps, and Clangers, Back to London this morning, rewriting the last four lines of my magisterial Moth Display poem on the train. I rewrote about 20 versions of the closing lines but yet there is not one that is right yet. Waves of weirdness abating slightly about being in the agency again, and I enjoyed myself, and very nice to chat to people. Though the suggestion that they have another whip round for me as I left today fell on deaf ears. It felt very comfortable to have worked with the Gnome for a couple of days; like putting on an old and extremely comfortable cardigan. We went for a fast beer at lunchtime at the dubious OSP pub, and he then left to go to Denmark Street buy guitar accessory Christmas presents for his musical family. I repaired back to the agency to write about ailments of one sort or another, and chatted intermittently to another freelancer called Diane who was sat opposite me. She was very nice, and it turns out she and her husband live in Brighton, very
Boomerang Off to London to start a two day spell of freelancing in my old agency for two day. For some reason I sprang from bed feeling very dubious very early in the morning. And so by time I arrived in the agency I was already tired. Boomeranging back, makes you feel like a Shakespearean ghost, with people double-taking at you from time to time. Aren't you dead ? But all was well, and the day was spent locked away with The Gnome working on concepts for the needles/eyes work for the client I'd pitched to in Switzerland. Pleased to see The Gnome again, and we did some good work, and ate chocolate biscuits and drank numerous teas. Then elbowing my way home. I was pleased to get this work, but it makes me wonder how I was able to do it every working day for getting on for 3 years. A couch potato in the evening, every show seemed to be about food Heston Blumenthal , Gordon Ramsay, are amazing (and completely different) characters. Bluementhal has been written about as a Willy Wonk
A change of clothes Woke up on a comfortable mattress on the floor at the FB's house. All up and a nice cheery porridge breakfast. Little Tahlia, who has just turned three rather melting my heart by playing with a cardboard box in which she pretended to get stuck, and saying "help me Mr Kenny". Adorable little thing. Then, after fond farewells, Matty, Kate and I left, walking off in the frosty morning to Chertsey station. As we did so I felt an immense feeling of wellbeing, life just seems to be full of possibilities at the moment, and I don't feel trapped or hindered by anything. We all got the same train, before Matty left at Kew Bridge, and I got off leaving Kate at Clapham. Then to Brighton. Nice to be home and change out of the clothes I had slept in for two nights running and have a long shower. Then out for a roast Sunday lunch with Lorraine, and thence to the Eddy to watch Arsenal v Chelsea in the pub. Unfortunately the forces of wrongness prevailed and the u
BLISS!!! Up fairly early, as Electra and her little pal called Bliss, ran in and began watching the Incredibles. Had something of a sore head, which I blamed on the Metaxa. Sophie said that I had drunk lots of French wine too, and yet I was blaming the Greeks. Much tidying up, where my helping involved following Sophie and Andros like a large sheep, and talking to them. Sophie putting on music, including a sorrowful epic about the Greek repatriations from Turkey in the 1920s, which made Elektra pull faces. Also met a children's book illustrator who is a great friend of Andros who dropped by, and was interested to hear his experiences in light of the project I'm doing with Mum. He had also made a bust of Christof, which was very good. Will be strange for Chirstof to have this representation of himself as a 13 year old when he is 50. After some time Sophie and her two bairns, plus Bliss, and I went for a walk in the park chatting. The kids went to Bliss's house and Sophie and
My big fat Greek Christmas A slogfest today, had my head down doing my freelance all day in my study struggling to meet a deadline. Have another three days work next week too, however, so this is good. Once done, at 5:30 I set off to Highgate to see Sophie. For the second year in a row, I went to Sophie's "my big fat Greek Christmas" party, where she manages to collect all kinds of interesting and likable people: I spoke to several writers and journalists, and a dancer who was feeling horribly old at 29 and wondering if her dance career was over. But mostly it was lovely to see Sophie and Andros and Christof and Electra. Young Christof lent me a DVD of the Mighty Boosh to further my comedy education. There were mountains of food, of course, including an impressive and yummy spanakopita, spinach pie. At some point Sophie also pressed a large glass of Metaxa brandy on me too to complete the experience. Just had a lovely time all night. The only moment that wasn't excell
Of parsnips and axe murderers Hmm. I'll have a parsnip with that roast Xmas lentil yet. I sent out my first invoice in my new freelance guise, and it felt good. And I have been working this week too, writing about cholesterol again for the last two days. And tomorrow too. Also I have a little work lined up for next week. More importantly, I think it is beginning to sink in that I will actually be okay, and life as a freelancer could be very big and clever in its own right - as well as giving me time for my own wheezes. It is, so far, a fairly painless transition. However I have been getting moments of cabin fever - especially as the work I have been doing is of the brain shrivelling variety - not only writing website copy but tweaking its architecture. It requires three dimensional thinking and makes want to turn into Jack Nicholson in The Shining , typing All work and no play makes Peter a dull boy , thousands of times. As a writer this was always the most frightening scene for me
The Golden Compass Off in the evening with Lorraine to see The Golden Compass , based on Northern Lights , by Philip Pullman. As expected the film completely bottled the religious themes. Good to know that Milton's influence is still subversive. Despite enjoying the gorgeous CGI and top performances by the young Dakota Blue Richards playing Lyra (from Brighton apparently) and Nicole Kidman, and liking the alternative London. But generally felt somewhat short changed: it was all fighting bears, rather than the huge moral complexities of the book, and the severing of children from their souls. It all ended shortly after a bloody good punch up. Otherwise, being a Monday I did Monday stuff. And I'm pleased to say there are some promising developments on the freelance side. Also I bought a Christmas tree and decorated it, which was lovely. Something about a tree that takes me back to all kinds of Christmases Past. And made time for a walk in the afternoon, in a fresh and cold wind a
Free as birds to wander where we will A deluge of wind and rain. Drove around Brighton looking for a parking spot with Lorraine, having to park miles from anywhere, then walked off cheerfully in the rain, to eat a belly-busting mash of hash potatoes, beans, sausage, bacon, mushroom topped with a fried egg and melted cheese at Billies. I'm pleased to say that I left quite a bit of mine. Very nice in a 5,000 calories on a plate sort of way. Then a fond farewell to Lorraine, and I set off to see Anton. We'd long planned a massive 15 mile walk today, as the bairns were at Anton's mum and Anna was on her coaching course. However, the weather was so unspeakable and as neither of us was feeling on top form physically, that we decided to forgo it. Anton instead was very busy taking his turntable apart and installing a new and heavier platter with all the anxious concentration of someone performing a heart transplant. Once reassembled we had to roadtest a few records. Anton's fa
My lance is carefully removed from its packaging So off to work again in London, and today my career as a freelancer began - a few weeks ahead of schedule. Today I went to Katie's agency not far from where I used to live in Kew. Had to get up early to be on time, and this seemed an affront to nature. And I almost had someone's eye out struggling onto the train with a 12 foot lance. Actually I felt slightly nervous, but things were quickly okay, and working around Kate seemed like business as usual. And she made me cups of tea, which is always something I enjoy seeing. And we went out for lunch together, and had a cheeky Friday beer after work with some of her pleasant colleagues. It is a very different mindset freelancing I think. I went in today, determined to do the best work I could, it is a strange feeling though being able to walk away afterwards realising that you have no responsibilities in the agency other than doing a good job as a visiting creative. It is probable tha
Don't stand in the hold Here is the beta version of my new site - more to be added, especially to the portfolio part - it also links into the nightwork , which will be my revamped personal site, with lots more new stuff added. Any feedback welcome. Just as I finished working on this for the day, First Matie called me to ask if I'd do some work with her, so tomorrow will see me zooming up to London for my first official day as a freelancer: nice of Katie to sort me out on that one. Bob crept off early this morning before I got up. Just before I got out of bed, I had an extremely vivid dream about looking from the back door of a house set on the top of a hill. A short distance away was a man standing in the collapsed and rotting remains of an old boat. Someone on my left was shouting "don’t you know it’s bad luck to stand in the hold?" And in the dream this seemed self-evidently sensible to me too. Then an enormous and beautiful sepia coloured thundercloud gathered flic
Pool with Mad Dog In cyberspace again for much of the day, working on my website. However recharged spirit and soul with a long walk down by the sea. Beautiful blowy afternoon and it is just wonderful to be have the time to be able to stop and stare at the enormous flock of starlings swooping about above the old pier, or the parasurfers speeding over the waves. In the evening Bob came around to stay overnight. We went out for many games of pool and a few pints in the Caxton. Unbelievably I managed to win four games in a row, against the old Mad Dog which was more than satisfying - I have only managed to fluke one or two games against him, whose misspent youth was spent entirely lurking in pool-playing cider dens. However Bob found some form and we drew level, but we left it at that. It is a little known fact that Mad Dog got this nickname after running about growling alarmingly in a pool room of a pub full of dodgy and violent types with a pool cue clamped between his teeth. Then a lig
Two babycinos please I found myself in a parent and toddler group this morning keeping an eye on young Oskar. Held at St Nicholas's church, the place was swarming with toddlers and under four year olds generally dancing around and singing and playing with toys. Rick and my next door neighbour Steve there too. And apart from young Oskar howling for about 20 seconds, all was well, and he fell asleep in my arms. If you want to talk to ladies, it transpires, having a sleeping baby in your arms is absolutely the way to go. Then Rick and I went with three babies and two buggies to a cafe. Rick telling me he is getting a band together and that their rehearsals are going well. Anna met us in the cafe, saying that the school she had been checking out with Anton for Klaudia was good. Klaudia ran up and sat on my knee, elegantly drinking her babycino, (Rick's daughter had a soya milk babycino) and entertainingly engulfing and regurgitating entire marshmallows, which made her hands sticky
Rough seas and queasiness Feeling a bit queasy this afternoon I took myself for a walk along the seafront to get some air. Wonderful rough sea and powerful waves the perfect antidote to cyber staleness caused by three days of website building. On the pier noticed again the tarot card reader's green covered waggon, looks like something that escaped from Dark's Carnival in Something wicked this way comes by Ray Bradbury. It made me feel almost compelled to go in, because it seemed so incongruous on this bleak and rainy grey day. The pier was almost empty, and glancing into its warmly lit interior you could spot Ivor the fortune-teller squatting at the back like a toad. In the evening walked up to Lorriane's house in a massive downpour with an unaccountable need to listen to Led Zeppelin on my iPod. Very pleased to have my new waterproof berghaus anorak. I had killed the previous one by putting it in the washing machine, which removes all of its waterproofing at a stroke. Onc
The Bacchanals Worked on my website all day - broken by a few conversations and emailing here and there. Then in the evening went up the hill to babysit for Anna and Anton. Spent some time watching The Peep Show, which is an farcical and toe-curling comedy. Very funny. Fortunately, as I watched and guffawed, the babies peeped not. Kate sent me a link about the pub we'd been in last night which was interesting. From E. Cobham Brewer 1810–1897 in the Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 1898: Some hundreds of years ago there stood in the Tyburn Road, Oxford Street, a public-house called The Bacchanals: the sign was Pan and the Satyrs. The jolly god, with his cloven hoof and his horns, was called “The devil;” and the word Bacchanals soon got corrupted into “Bag o’ Nails.” The Devil and the Bag o’ Nails is a sign not uncommon even now in the midland counties.
Emergency beers at the Bag O' Nails Single-minded day today. Worked from 8 till 4:30 on a new me me me website which will showcase all things Peter Kenny for freelance purposes. I am pleased with the results so far, and I will naturally post the link here when it goes live in a few days. It is also forcing me to revamp my old sixthfingers site and refresh my cyber presence generally, which is no bad thing. In the evening, however, I went off to the Bag O' Nails at Victoria for emergency beers with First Matie who has broken her engagement with Gav. Although upsetting and horrid, one of the few good things about such crises is that it reminds you that you have lots of pals and they all care about you, and Kate's pals are naturally all rallying round. It was good to see her, and she is doing okay. In one way it's all quite reassuring. First Matie and me have had emergency beers many times over the years, and it feels part of the natural ebb and flow of things. On a rando
Official: I am not attention seeking It's not often I say a stern "no" to attention, but I had to today. Was approached by someone writing an article for the women's section of The Observer called the Ex Files. This allows you and an ex to discuss, for the benefit of its female readership, why your relationship ended, and what you learned from it. Apparently, the pitch went, people can find this therapeutic. So I eagerly forwarded it to Mex for her opinion. I went for a late lunchtime walk and, thinking about it, it suddenly dawned on me that I would rather plunge knitting needles deep in my own eye sockets than be part of it. When I got home there was a note from Mex saying much the same. What was I thinking? Otherwise I worked on my new poem, provisionally called The Moth Display, and felt tremendously cheerful. In the evening popped up to Victoria for another enjoyable and funny evening with New Biz Liz. Had quite a few drinks and then we went to strap on a Sri Lan
Flint and moth An excellent day. Did some business-type stuff this morning, then talked to Mum at some length about a wheeze we are working on together which mainly involves her doing some painting while I spin idly around in my chair. Also during the morning I sent the pictures of the flint scraper to the local museum, and was invited round to show them, as the Booth Museum is only a short walk away from where I live. Mad place, featuring the collection of one Edward Thomas Booth, whose blatant ambition was to slaughter and stuff every last species of British Bird. Fine examples, as the museum would have it, of The Victorian Art of Taxidermy . A quirky and fascinating place, and well worth a visit. So I walked past all the baleful cases of dead birds, to have a conversation with a bearded man called Jeremy. Stifling a yabadabadoo! I held out my stone age scraper. Sadly, after peering keenly at this artifact with his magnifier, he said it was a piece of flint. Although perfectly shape
A Thanksgiving Started the day learning that my poem A sparrow at 30,000 feet will be in the first issue of a new magazine from Guernsey called Written In. The editors have also kept hold of other poems to use them in subsequent issues, so this is all good. It is important to me to have work appear in Guernsey. Also I recieved a note from Joan who has been talking to Dick about my megalithic find, (see previous entry) and thinks it is a stone age scraper used to scrape hair and fat off hides. He was familiar with this instrument because he just read a book dealing with the prehistoric natives of Ontario. I have sent my jpegs off to a local museum to see if they make anything of it, or simply tell me it is a piece of stone. Then up to Edgware for Mason's tradional late Thanksgiving supper. A cheerful gathering there, with Tanya and Robert, Ben and Poppy (over from Guernsey) and Diane who is looking remarkably good after her recent radiotherapy treatment. Nice to fork into some turk
A small axe Really enjoyable day today. Got up and spent several hours working on my poetry manuscript and feeling that I am makings some real progress. The luxury of being able to concentrate on it for a while is wonderful. At this rate I should have a finished collection to send off in a few weeks. Attended to a few bits of interesting correspondence, then after a light and unorthodox lunch of fish fingers and noodles, I decided to take advantage of the blue skies and go for a walk. Took my camera with me of course and snapped as I walked down through town and past the marina to the undercliff walk taking quite a few detours en route, ended up walking for getting on for three hours. Al texted me about a pitch win my old agency had won, and said she was missing me which was nice. Contact with various people during the day, and an email from Simon who I've not heard from for a while. Just checked and there was a text from Carl last night well after midnight, asking about the Carlb
A walk by the sea Below A fisherman doing unspeakable things to crabs. (Also see 15th Nov for more on crabs); a graphic looking post thing in the harbour; part of a rusted fence; two of the chalk cliffs; one of the harbour at dusk (click on it to enlarge it and you will see some starlings) and a shot of the patterns underneath the pier.
Spaghetti con Sophie Tuesday mostly doing Monday stuff still. The weather still doing Monday stuff too. Late afternoon saw me shooting up to London to meet Sophie. Waited for her outside the National Portrait Gallery underneath two fire-gouting torches which hissed slightly in the rain, and while I waited I calculated that we'd been friends for 28 years. On arrival her first move was to buy some sushi because she was hungry. The sushi uneaten, we had a quick drink in the Salisbury and then dived into a nearby Spaghetti House where we gossiped for hours and forked down pasta and pizza, and drank wine. Along the way, we agreed to meet up again soon, to spend some time planning wheezes. Then fond farewells in the rain and Charing Cross, and for me a fast journey home.
The unalterable essence of Monday Mondays are Mondays whatever you happen to be doing. There is no use going against the grain, so today's focus was on generating work - and doing dutiful, Monday-ish stuff - emailing people and speaking on the phone. I took a break for a walk a couple of hours in the middle of the day. Invigorating to walk in the wind by the rough grey sea for an hour or so, despite the rain. But the grey eventually made me feel gloomy. But my mood was dispelled by an Agent Cooper style - excuse me - DAMN fine cup of coffee and a quick phone call with Sophie who I am going to see tomorrow, and I zipped back home to recommence the tedious stuff with new heart. Spoke to one of my fellow denizens of the Twitten, who told me he had taken a few months off last year at the same time, and had loved it, which was good to hear. Spoke also to Max the Mentor and Bob, while I was out and about. In the evening had a bit of a spring clean in my study, which felt good, and I ende
Enabling higher thinking Had a crash course today in children's books. Met Lorraine at the library where she selected several children's books for me to look at, that were used successfully in schools. And there were more in Waterstones later. Children's books generally have such beautiful production values. Lorraine explained in detail how the books were used in the context of a lesson, which was great. It was an excellent briefing, and soon had me thinking about a story for 7 year olds. One of the things I noticed about several of the stories was that there was some form of moral dilemma, and that - which surprised me - that there were lots of unanswered questions. This is the space that prompts the questions that "enable higher thinking" as Lorraine called it. Went home and wrote and drew for several hours, seized by a simple idea. In the evening went out with Lorraine, Brian, Anna and Anton. Anna making her way down to the restaurant with a crutch. We had a qu
Passage graves, accountants, and crab deaths Leisurely morning. Dealt with some of my "networking" correspondence and now have at least one interesting meeting lined up for next week - plus some with headhunters. Breakfast with Mum and Mase, and then with Mum looking at the excellent book: The Archeology and Early History of the Channel Islands by Heather Sebire, which I bought in Guernsey last month. This is a most excellent book and I am learning enormous amounts from it. Such as the fact there are ancient earthworks protecting Jerberg Point. I can't believe I have only just learned about this. And I am fascinated with this detail about bodies taken from the passage grave in Le Déhus (see this blog August 1st 2006 for pics) which were placed upright in a kneeling position and packed in with limpet shells and earth. This happened no more recently that 2000 bc, and could be as distant as 3500 bc. The detail about the limpet shells is playing on my mind. Why limpets? As f
Frogs legs and fanatics Off to Mill Hill to be met by Mum and Mase and driven straight up to St Albans for a Thai lunch with Tanya and Robert. The four of them are planning to go to Madeira soon. Robert and Mase talking about businessy things, and Mum Tanya and I talking more broadly. Rats was one subject, but a word which Tanya refused to say aloud, and instead mouthed each time mysteriously (and slightly randomly in terms of phonetics). As we chomped on chicken satay, Tanya told us more about her childhood in the Philippines: about how frogs being seized in heavy rain, and everyone would breakfast on their boiled legs the next morning. But sadly, it no longer rains like that anymore, presumably due to climate change. After the meal, the owner of the restaurant gave Tanya and Mum a pomegranate each, and was very friendly - telling Mum that she was still very pretty and asking how could she have a son like that . Mum pleased with this, but I wasn't quite so sure. Then a bit of cold
A wooden horse called Peter Began work this morning at eight on dragon-related stuff. Anton came around for a cup of tea at lunchtime and we had some dragon-related chats, and as I type this I am waiting to go off to the Eddy with him to further discuss this and other important matters over a pint or two of Harveys bitter. Otherwise still busy planting seeds for next year's income. Talked to another headhunter and have made an appointment to see my accountant on Thursday. Also chatted to The Gnome to see how he was getting on, and talked to Sophie, and emailed with Katie who sent me a useful contact. Cooked a beanjar today so was able to warm the house from the oven and fill it with herby and comforting beanjar smells all day. Took myself for a couple of walks. I am becoming slightly obsessed with the pier. I started writing something the other day that is set on it, and so have been drifting back to check the details. Something about places that are out of season that I love. Some
A cloud of starlings A quiet but industrious day. Felt anxious to get started on my plans and schemes - so I can make some money early next year. I worked for about five hours on rewriting my CV and sending it off a couple of times, making mind maps, and researching various sources of work on the internet and so on. Felt much better after doing this. Then at about three I went out for a longish walk by the sea. Stopping at a seaside cafe called the Meeting Place for a cup of tea and looking at the sun on the sea. It was considerably colder today than it has been recently, but it was nice in the sun. Then walked back along the sea to the Pier where I lurked for a while taking some writing notes. The starlings are back, big cloud-sized flocks speeding over the sea, to settle in their twittering thousands under the pier as the sun sets. A quiet night too - doing some of my writing, and watching Twin Peaks.
Traveller's tales Rather tired after being disturbed by a 2am shouty drunks v police match at the end of the twitten the night before. Saturday however great fun, and after talking to Anna yesterday, I am much clearer about what I need to do in this new chapter if it is to be a success, and my head is full of next steps and Important Things To Do. Had coffee with Lorraine in the Lanes and then headed back up towards the smoke before making a detour to see the FB and Bouncy Max in Chertsey Meads. Was met at the station by Max with the two babies sleeping in the car. Had a splendid night with them, and Max the Mentor, eating the FB's excellent home made-curry and quaffing wine. All of us pretty restrained after Wednesday's leaving do. Bouncy Max had something like 8 years travelling and backpacking around the world so is a mine of good travelling stories. She kept a diary all the time, and we have talked two or three times about how this could be the source material for an a
A new start A wonderful blue skied day in Brighton. Without a hangover, off this morning to buy a new Berghaus anorak much of it paid for with the whipround from the agency, and then wandered down to the sea. Passed a doorway on West street and walked down a passageway into St Paul's church. Beautiful interior and I spent a few minutes sat in this well of tranquility while a small service was being conducted at the altar. Then down to the seaside for a walk, feeling exhilarated and happy. Walked onto the pier and had a coffee and took some photos of the strange zombie, skeleton witchy people that pop out from the windows of the Horror Hotel, which houses the ghost train. As I walked on there was a kerfuffle in the air and half a dozen squawking young seagulls one of which dropped something on the boards before me: a small and flapping flatfish. I managed to snap this in a wildlife photography moment. Feeling tremendously cheery today. Went to visit Anna this afternoon and we did
Hangovers and longnoses Fragile and badly hung over this morning. I think my new life officially begins next Monday. I can't start it with a hangover. For a bad hangover makes simple things very complicated. For some reason my mobile phone wasn't working, and it took most of the morning to work out that if I turned it off and on again it might work. Managed a spot of light shopping, including going to the Chinese store and buying a bag of dried black fungus, beansprouts and a tray of small but meaningful chillies. Probably because I was creeping about hypochondriacally, I was asked three times if I needed help. And then was given lots of cheerful but unasked-for advice about how you can freeze chillies, and that the beansprouts needed washing before using and so on while I was standing about blearily wanting to plunge needles in my own eyes. A quiet night indoors virtuously sipping sparkling mineral water with a squeeze of lemon. Watched Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's new se
All's well that ends well An excellent last day at the agency. Arrived late, attended a meeting and then simply went to the pub for lunch with the FB and the Gnome and other creative chums. The FB bought me a nice plate of sausages and mash and we drank some boozes. Then back to the agency where I had a last minute meeting, and had a few chats - and read a few friendly emails. Then a trolley of drinks was brought in to the creative department and some of the agency drifted up. Barney made a really flattering speech and I said a few things, chiefly about the pride I felt in the agency and the people who worked there. Felt very touched. I was given a card with a picture of Frank Bough on it, which was fun, and they'd had a collection and there is enough money for a proper walker's anorak. I feel I have ended well, and with great affection and was tremedously pleased I didn't blub like a big girl. Then all down to the works bar to socialise with lots of chums. These includ
All at sea Full of the sense that this is the last Monday I will be commuting for a while. This an excellent feeling. Strange experience these last few days at work. A kind of phony war. Nothing much happening, apart from me zipping about collecting a few bits and pieces. Meanwhile there are lots of irritating bits of work to be done - which left me feeling a bit bad tempered. Home and watched an excellent documentary called Deep Water about Donald Crowhurst. Crowhurst ran into difficulties as a participant in the first single-handed Sunday Times Golden Globe Race, but then decided to fake his around the world journey. However, he committed suicide rather than face the humiliation of being discovered. The race was won by Robin Knox-Johnston in 1969, who donated the £5000 winning money to Crowhurst's family. There is some evidence that Crowhurst had gone mad. Hundreds of days at sea alone can do that. Made me feel a bit similar to after having watched Control the other night. The s
A cracking evening Fairly idle Sunday. Spoke to mum for about two hours, and helped her set up a blog, which she will soon loose on an unsuspecting world. Naturally, I will link to it from here too. Otherwise, I slugged on my gold sofa all the afternoon watching telly, particularly enjoying the Wookie in some Star Wars nonsense. After dark out into the twitten, and the clamorous night. Guy Fawkes is tomorrow, but the Brighton sky was already alive with bangs and flashes and the sparkle of rocket trails. Went to see Janet and Ken, who had invited me, and their friends Ray and Cesare, for a meal. Particularly enjoyed chatting to Cesare, a young history lecturer at the university, who has been following in my footsteps by lodging with Janet and Ken. Very enjoyable night, with various topics getting an airing: but mostly the degeneracy (or otherwise) of social networking sites such as facebook. Great to see Ken on much improved form, after receiving a few zaps from a laser recently, which
Control A lovely relaxed morning down by the seaside. A hot sunny day, crazily for November, and enjoyed lobbing big cobble sized pebbles into the water and hearing the big plop as they fell into the sea. In the evening Lorraine and I saw Control . This is the film about Ian Curtis of Joy Division. I read Touching from a distance by his widow while I was in Guernsey, and enjoyed it. The film stayed very close to this. Wonderful film although depressing. The music was genuinely exciting, played by the cast apparently and not from record. And it dramatised the fate of a talented guy unable to make decisions about his own life, a problem enhanced by the medications he was taking for his epilepsy. Shot in glorious black and white by Anton Corbijn. And wonderfully acted, especially by Sam Riley as Curtis. Came out feeling depressed though, and full of memories of the late 1979 and 1980.
Peace and The Dove Friday and feeling very cheerful on the train going to work this morning. Had one of those peaceful Buddhist-type revelations: I have everything I need in my life to be happy. It is just a matter of shuffling the proportions, and looking again with gratitude at what I have. Working hard this morning on various documents and brochures, and then went to lunch with the French Bloke in the Dove, one of my all time favourite pubs. We scarfed a yummy comfort food lunch of sausage and cabbage and potato mash with gravy. Then there were a few pints of London Pride, and some plotting - for the Dove's old bar demands it - and chatting. The FB also telling me about The God Delusion by Dawkins, which I am going to download. Looking at the carved bit of Portland stone on the fireplace which had to be rebuilt after the war thanks to the effects of time and "Mr Hitler". The carving is of a dove with an olive branch in its beak and the ark on the horizon. I love that
Red drips from the stone The agency is squeezing the last blood out of the stone. I'm having to finish lots of work, and am still taking a lead role in talking to our clients. I attended a meeting where I was supposed to just be there as a backup, but had to take control for a while as it suddenly went a bit awry. The graveyards are full of indispensable people of course, but it makes me wonder what will happen... I found time, however, to sneak off for a 40 minute swim. After swimming at the pool for many years, you get to know some of the regulars. The man with dyed red hair said hello to me today after three or four years of swimming up and down in the next lane to me. After work, I had a chat and a swift beer with a freelance colleague called Rory. He is flying back to Australia this weekend, and his descriptions of beach hut life back home were full of longing. As we looked out at the dark, with him conjuring an Australian summer in a beach hut full of cheery mates brandishing
Memory of a mule deer Out to lunch with the Gnome today for a Thai meal. There are going to be several farewells soon. I am having my leaving drinks on my last day next Wednesday, and as my friend Max the Mentor is leaving the agency too, we're going to have a joint party. If nobody turns up at least we can have a beer together. Otherwise I'm being kept busy by Al, with lots of work. On my way home was contacted by a headhunter, who had somehow got wind of me leaving. No idea who tipped them off... But whoever it was, it was a nice thought. Home and had a Twin Peaks festival. Series two is much better than I remember it. Twin Peaks is my favourite TV series. It manages to be funny, creepy, touching, gruesome, philosphical, and plain strange all at once. And despite all the murders going on in the town of Twin Peaks it is a place you'd love to visit. Years ago I visited the Rocky Mountains at Banff, and I can still remember the dry, pine scented air - and whenever I watch Tw
Jazz and head injuries Off to the City this evening to meet Paul in his jazz Svengali mode. He has been doing some sort of work with a Jazz group called Vox City 5. Went to a pub where they were playing, and there were three of the five there. It was one of those hard-to-resist parping trombone, electric piano and vocal groups. They were very accomplished but unfortunately my least favourite type of jazz. It was, however, an entertaining night. Turns out the pub we were drinking in, called the Watermark, was Paul's local. He had primed the barmaid to aggressively sell the band's badges and CDs. I found myself browbeaten into handing over one of the Queen's pounds for a badge with the band's name on it. A little known fact about Paul is that he is a kind of guardian angel to Dave who had a head injury many years ago. Paul sees Dave most weeks. Paul had invited Dave's retired dad Norman along for the jazz, and he and I companionably swapped anecdotes about jazz and he
Dans Le Noir? II After I went to the Dans Le Noir? restaurant, I remembered the poem I had written about blackness which was printed in Poetry London a few years ago. I wrote it after thinking about the Dark Ages, and how not much is known about them, and how there is a lot of conjecture mixed in with history. So I imagined a time in the distant future where there is no light, and how their scholars will make up stuff about our time, which I called the Light Age. An adumbration of the Light Age Scientists classify six creatures that lived in light: Aardvark, elephant, carp, bee, bee-eater, and tern. Their eyes were adapted to blinding conditions Pupils clenched to pinpricks, eyeballs squeezed in sockets. Life, scientists suggest, will persist in peculiar places For this so-called Light Age stretched for millennia Reigned over by a species of squinting hominid Who flinched from blackness, and the comforts of night. Their aggregations of rubble are irrefutable But other signs of their p
Dans Le Noir? Interesting night out, with the healthcare homies from the agency. Went to Dans Le Noir? a novel restaurant. When I was told that we were going to go to a restaurant where you ate in complete darkness I thought it sounded like a terrible night out, especially as I was feeling rather tired. But it wasn't. The start of the evening was pure David Lynch: led in by a blind black waiter wearing shades. We walked down a short corridor lit by a single red light. We were walking in line with our hands on the person in front's shoulder. Mine was on the waiter's shoulder and Al was behind me. Shuffling on we pushed through sets of heavy black drapes into a room of absolute dark. Although I collect phobias like other people collect stamps, I am not actually scared of the dark. But something in me quailed momentarily on entering the pitch black room, full of chattering diners, where you literally could not see your hand before your face. Al laughing nervously behind me. I