Counting my blessings So here I am on the last day of the year, counting my blessings, and looking back at the year. Best thing is that Mum has completed her chemotherapy, after her cancer op in the spring, and is well and returning to her old self. Mase has done a great job of staying positive and taking care of her during her recovery. Happily Toby and Romy are both fine and doing well too... somewhere in Central America catching some rays and culture. Turns out that Lorraine is someone to whom being nurturing, and emotionally generous comes as naturally as leaves do to a tree. I am very lucky. This year too I became a Godfather to Oskar and Klaudia, an event I found surprisingly moving. I continue to be blessed with many friends, and it would take many, many blog entries to do them all justice. In 2008 I laid the foundations for a different life. My move to being a freelance writer continues to be sustainable, and I have balanced interesting, often well-paid work with being able to
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Mum's birthday Up in Edgware for Mum's birthday. Slept heavily due to my sniffy man cold, but up late to have breakfast of toasted crumpets and coffee with Mum and Mase. Getting up is a much more protracted affair now for Mum and Mase due to their little Salty kitten, who is unbelievably vocal and gets in the way of everything. Nice little thing it is though. I gave mum a present of Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time which is strange birdsong music composed and first performed in a Gulag during the second world war, with its first performance in the camp, with Messiaen playing a piano to an audience of prisoners and guards. We listened to this birdsong-like music for a bit before we drove off to Stanmore for some lunch a the Weatherspoon's pub. All pretty cheery and enjoyable, and some good beer to boot. Excellent to see mum being able to enjoy a glass of wine again. Reminiscing and chatting over pies, and a couple of drinks was good fun. Snoozy afternoon and watch
Boxing day Awake at a ghastly 5am thanks to my kitten. Balefully waiting for dawn, and once the sun rose, it was a beautiful clear day. Off to see Janet and Ken for a brunch of eggs benedict and bucks fizz. Both on good form, and awaiting the family descending on them at some point tomorrow. They gave me decorative little picture made of petals, which was very thoughtful. Then I lurched off to the shops to pick at the bones of the doomed retail economy and returned with three cushions. Slept heavily on my sofa with the kitten squeezing into the crook if my arm like some kind of hot waterbottle. Got up and walked to Lorraine's place and had cold turkey and bubble and squeak and home made pickled onions, which Pat had made, which was all rather nice and watched The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe on TV, which I enjoyed more than when I saw it first. Then Lorraine and I went to the Eddy to meet Anton and Brian, where we had a large festive drink enjoying the Eddy's faintly disrep
Christmas day Woke up early at Lorraine's house. Beth, who is 17 going on 7, loudly and comically insisted everyone get up for the opening of presents. A cup of tea then into big present opening session, with Beth, Lorraine, and Lorraine's folks Pat and Maureen. Santa was good to me this year (and not angered by my impersonation of him earlier in the month). Lorraine got me an adjustable beard trimmer, and a digital radio, Beth and Sam got me the new Alice Russel CD, Lorraine's folks a nice cup and shaving gel, Anton, Anna and the bairns got me a Spork (a combination fork, spoon and knife) for outdoors purposes, and self inflating cushion for when we're walking and need somewhere to squat, a book on Brighton Architecture and walks, and some coasters made from the centres of old LPs. All jolly good stuff. After a big breakfast, and people chatting to various family members by phone (I spoke to Mum and Mase), we all drove off to Beth's boyfriend Mark's house. A wa
Gloria the spider I am hopeless at wrapping presents, and this process lengthened by Calliope pouncing explosively into the middle of everything from time to time. Anton told me about a wrapping service that you could choose either to have things wrapped perfectly, or - for blokes - wrapped badly to make it seem that you have done it yourself. It's worth considering. Off to St Nicholas parish church for a carol service for young children with Anton and Anna, and my Godbairns. Met Lorraine near the church having just dropped her parents Pat and Maureen at the Church. Klaudia sat on my knee for most of the service, covertly drawing and playing with Lorraine next to me. Father Robert told the nativity story from the perspective of a large spider called Gloria, who lived in a crack in the stable and was startled to hear Gloria in Excelsis! Later Father Robert produced a big fluffy spider which he invited one of the children to add to the church's traditional nativity scene. Ann
A welcome lull A day to regroup. After a long chat with Mase, and Mum who was being "dogged" by Salty the kitten, went early into Brighton to finish off some Christmas shopping. Spoke to Anton, as I did so, who persistently wanted to discuss football. Bought a few last things, feeling a surge of cheeriness and relief as I finished. The shops are already offering half price offers, and gearing up for the sales (and there will be some fabulous bargains for the shopper). There has been an underlying desperation in the shops this Christmas; the Titanic orchestra is playing festive tunes. Everything is okay for me financially at the moment but there is such a mood of general apprehension it's hard not to get drawn into it. Home and I found that there was a smidge of work come through on the hogsite, which I did quickly - and also that I had been contacted again by Giles from the BBC website - so I sent him a few opinions about advertising. A nap with the cat, then happily insu
Historic drinking Up to London this afternoon, after a little work. I will have to do a little more on the hogsite over the holidays: but it's manageable. Being continually jostled on Oxford Street for a couple of hours wore my Christmas spirit to a tattered rag. Being lurched into by a small, drunken Big Issue seller who proceeded to hurl abuse at me for my rudeness was almost the last straw. Things improved drastically walking down the Strand and Fleet Street, where I went to meet Bob in Ye Old Cheshire Cheese . While I waited for him, I fell into conversation with three young Australians, a girl and two boys. One called Tom had left Manchester two years ago and moved down under. He loves it there. All very cheery, which quickly restored my festive spirit. Bob appeared and we stayed with my new friends for half an hour or so. They were very young and it made me feel quite paternal, especially as the younger lad was not used to drinking very much. Then Bob and I left, to complete
Burning of the clocks Woken up at four in the morning by a mugging in the twitten. I don't know who was mugged, just heard a lot of shouting, and running and a demand to "give us everything". I sprang out of bed and phoned the cops, but everyone concerned had sped away before I had reached downstairs. Laborious descriptions needed, while I stood naked in the dark and the perpetrators legged it. How did I know it was a mugging? I looked out of the windows to confirm nobody was around or hurt. Silence returned and I went back to bed, later hearing two policemen quietly talking and checking the twitten. All seemed like a dream by morning. My house is like Tom Bombadil's house in the Lord of the Rings, the bit where the hobbits are told to heed no nightly noises. A lovely slow day. To lunch at the Sussex Yeoman with Lorraine and Cath and Hywel, who is over from Iceland where he works as an archaeologist specialising in Vikings. Interesting to hear what he's up to, inc
To Lewes Slunk lazily out to buy fresh bread and the newspaper, which Lorraine and I ate toasted, munching happily on the gold sofa with the cat sitting happily between us. Only the thought of putting my cheque into the bank motivating me. However once in the throngs of shoppers in the North Laines felt energised and very cheery. Managed to buy several presents quite quickly, so suddenly I feel in control of Christmas shopping, which is a fine & dandy feeling. Lots of music in the lanes as usual, including one excellent and funky group of drummers and percussionists lurking by Infinity foods who appeared to be busking for the sheer joy of it. Sometimes Brighton can lift you up like no other place I've lived in. We bumped into Anton and David, his father in law. Anton briefly insulting my beard before we moved our separate ways. Later in the afternoon went to Lewes, and the Lewes Arms to have an enjoyable drink with Matty boy and his nice sister Tash. I have mentioned the Lewes
Putting on the swank Up to the London again for lunch with First Matie and Graeme for the inaugural self-employed Christmas lunch. Went to the Kensington Park Hotel, and had rather a nice lunch in the Park Terrace Restaurant near some plaster telamones (although without quite such a glorious view as suggested on their website). Graeme looked top in a matching cravat and handkerchief, his smart hunting waistcoat, and nice jacket. I think he needed a monocle though. Kate in a lovely green dress and glamorous high heels. Even I dug out a tie and jacket. Lots of white wine and rather nice food. I had a pea based soup, turkey Christmas themed main course, and a pear tartan for afters. All good. After, we lurched out across the road to a pub for an absolute bloody final, after Kate in no-nonsense mood, asked the staff for the location of "a decent boozer". One abf in the pub, discussing speech writing and politics, amid general teasing and cheekiness, before painlessly back to Bri
Reference this! Spent the day doing referencing. Attributing, in Harvard style, every quote or source I'd used in the massive hogsite. Seven hours of this multi-window nitpickery made me feel like smashing laptop through my study window, bellowing "reference this you ****ers!" into the Twitten. Again this wouldn't have helped local reputation, so I'm pleased, in retrospect, that I didn't. Seven hours later I warmed up a bowl of bean jar, nerves in shreds. But I had finished! Took a call mid bean jar, and found Calliope, tucking into it when I turned round. The weasel. However, barring one or two quick tweaks this is me done for the year... So hooray for that. Have work lined up for Jan too... So all well. But waiting to be paid as I have outstanding billings well into five figures now. Then slipped up the road to babysit. The children very sweet, Klaudia was asleep, and when I told Oksar to go to sleep too, he simply did so at once. Amazing child. Won't
French flair and floods Up to the smoke this afternoon to meet my lovely French client Jeanne. We met in the Royal Opera House restaurant. A lovely building to wander around. I was five minutes earlier than Jeanne and I stood out on the terrace looking down on the bustle of Covent Garden below. Jeanne arrived with chic hair. How can hair be chic? Is the question I have since asked myself. But it undeniably was - and probably one of those sinister French things. We sat in the restaurant, squinting into the low bright sun above the square. Good to see her and chat briefly about projects we will work on next year, which will make a nice change from diseases. Then off to Richmond, where I waited in one of my favourite pubs The White Cross , for Mex and Sarah. Waiting I got absorbed in a book of poems, and then looking up saw that the river had flooded and the pub was islanded. Trapped in a pub! The horror. I bought another beer to steady my nerves. Took a while before the water abated and
A little time on my hands Not working today. So went to the Disney store to buy a Minnie Mouse dress and ears and some species of Wall-E toy for my God children. Then crept down to the gym for a light session. I feel Victrian maidenish and wussy, but it was better than nothing. This followed by a happy and relaxed afternoon. The smell of Guernsey bean jar wafting about the place, which Calliope and I enjoyed later. Listened to my backlog of podcasts, watched some Japanese music videos on You Tube which Toby had sent me. Chasing Calliope around the house with a vacuum cleaner had given me the idea of creating a cartoon last week. So as I was at a bit of a lose end... Below: behold the Sucky Monster!
Santastic A spot of Santa action this morning at Tumble Tots in Hove. Off to Hove with Anna and my God son Oskar in the car, listening to the Shoe Babies tape. Struggled in the side room into Santa Garb (which I'm pleased to report was fairly roomy) but opted not to don the random Pirate boots. Big ham that I am, I loved it. I found myself grinning underneath my false beard as I waved at all the kids. I think the children enjoyed it almost as much as me, though were one or two who were a deeply dubious about the red-clad Brian Blessed tribute act. But it was a rather polished ho-ho-hoing performance even if I say so myself. I asked the toddlers if they had been good, and sat about watching them tumbling about over their equipment and their mats, from the comfort of my throne in the corner. Then handed presents out to them. Some of the children creeping forwards as if Santa were some kind of wild animal in a cage. A big bell ringing exit, with instructions to leave mince pies out fo
Minimal migration issues The kitten stood on my face at 5:30. After a difference of opinion about this, I lay awake listening to her exact terrible reprisals against the Christmas tree downstairs. After big bowls of porridge, Lorraine went off shopping steadily working her way through her list, while I got down to work. After a while, my mobile phone suddenly began to die - not a good idea if you work for yourself. At the Orange shop a young man showed me phones until he realised I looked glazed and was going to have a nosebleed. I opted for a Sony Ericsson same as last time. Good choice , he said, as migration issues are minimal . Thank God, I said. Then met Lorraine again for a defrosting coffee, and to The Eagle pub, which Lorraine's pal Caz runs. They share a hairdresser, and found that they are sporting identical haircuts and looked like brother and sister. We scarfed a late Sunday afternoon roast beef meal which I accompanied with a restrained pint of IPA, which reminded me o
Dastardly drinking A slow start to the day. Cold, with rain lashing the windows as I worked at a strange new poem. Went out to buy bread in a cold rainy gale. Bumped into Ken by the station cashpoint, who was gloomily contemplating a trip to Axminister to see some of his family. Returned home to cook Lorraine a large breakfast. Then took an emergency fish call from Lakshmi whose fish (species unknown) was feeling a bit moby dick. I enjoy my role as remote fish doctor. Feeling slightly sneezy and man coldy but rallied heroically to go shopping. There are sales everywhere and an undercurrent of desperation in the shops. Bought bits for my God children, and saw a bargain charcoal grey coat for myself. First coat I'd bought in years. After these labours went to a little pub with Lorraine to quaff pints of bitter. Then more shopping again to buy cushions. Lorraine is not really a drinker, I remembered, watching her knock over a display of nasty ornamental ducks. Stopped at The Caxton on
Gripping the mince pie Friday... So that would be when the work comes in then. Actually not bad work, and clearly briefed, and it didn't break my holiday mood too much. Among other things, I wrote four little case study monologues: two men with erection problems, and a man and a woman with glaucoma. Ye Gods. Broke off after lunch of miso soup (a packet job but organic, and with no poisonous MSG) to climb up the hill so Anna could tell me what I needed to do in my forthcoming role as Santa, and to give her an overdue birthday present. I have been practicing my "ho-ho-ho" (not something you could get away with in - say - Brooklyn) and have opted for mellow and rich as opposed to booming. I don't want to create a team of little Santaphobics, who will begin to loathe Christmas, drop out of school, and end up assassinating Archduke Franz Ferdinand or something just because of a Wrong Santa. It's a responsibility. My Godchildren Klaudia and Oskar both spontaneousl
Urgh Hungover, I got up at five to get water. The kitten, after following me to the kitchen and back, took this as an invitation to rub her mouth on my lips with repulsive regularity. I felt too sordid to do anything else other than submit to this violation. Thankfully this eventually abated, and she fell asleep draped over my neck like a vibrating scarf. A limbo day spent waiting for copy feedback which never came. Slipped off to the nearby supermarket to buy some veggies if only to say that I had at least left the house. Woolworth's closing down sale featured heavily in the media. There is affection for Woolies. Even I, zero brand loyalty personified, liked it as a kid. It had airfix kits, and toys, and pick n mix sweets to be trousered. I remember bolting from the Neasden Woolies having stolen a single sweet, feeling horrendously guilty. I've never been cut out for crime. Dipping into the poetry collections I bought yesterday, and listening to Arvo Part on my gold sofa. The
Kate and Matty in The Bull's Head Up to the smoke this afternoon, as it was another non website day. Curiously, I felt a sense of excitement about being in London. The Thames looked like liquid metal as the train rolled across the bridge to Victoria station. It was noticably colder in London than Brighton. Went for a brief walk around Victoria, rubbernecking at some new buildings, before tubing west to Chiswick. Got off at Turnham Green. And was struck by the purple sky and silhouette of chimneys on the road I used to live on before moving to Brighton. It feels good to have moved on. I really like Chiswick, and I was on some kind of pilgrimage as I wandered about old haunts. Paused to buy three books of poetry, and the Children's Writers' and Artists' yearbook 2009 . Then my feet led me down to Strand on the Green and the Bull's Head - where I met a cheerful and relaxed First Matie for a long overdue beer. The Bull's Head is my old local pub, so I am always hap
Catching the big fish Talk about a lightness of being. Writing so much about health issues as I have been lately is gloomy work, and being free of it again today was wonderful. What to do with all this time? I feel so free. Chillax is the answer. To that end, and already festively plump, I went down to the gym for an albeit rather mild-mannered session. Pottered briefly in the North Lanes. Once home, I discovered that I have been contacted again by Giles from a BBC website, asking for a comment on the Argos adverts so I sent him something (which I've also put on my daywork blog). This afternoon I sat down to watch the only David Lynch film I'd never seen: Eraserhead . This was his first movie, made with scraped together cash over a period of five years, and it is amazing. So many Lynch tropes are in place - the parallel world, the weird stage, curtains, and the general unexplained air. There is a thread in Lynch which is like Samuel Beckett, and this is his most Beckett-like f
Ho-ho-ho So having sent copy off for the website at 10:30 this morning, after an appalling 5:30am wake up call by the kitten, suddenly I was free from thinking about terminal ailments, blindness and sexual dysfunction for hours on end, which was nice. Waiting now for a round of hogsite revisions, but the most arduous part is over. Instead my thoughts turned to things of a festive nature. Later in the day Anna sent me a text asking me to be Santa for Oskar's "tumble tots" group next week. I'm sure I can ho-ho-ho it up with the best of them, so I readily agreed. I decorated the Christmas tree, which made Calliope literally go mad with excitement, and tear about in the branches, attacking baubles, tinsel, branches and me with with gusto and impartiality. She got so carried away and fighty that I had to ban her. In protest she hared out into the Twitten into the path of a concerned cat lover, who promptly phoned my number which is on her tag. I opened my door and they wer
Cups of good cheer Basil, one of Lorraine's cats pawing me awake in the night. Half the people I meet these days are actually cats. Or fish. Went with Beth off to the excellent tropical fish shop: Maidenhead Aquatics. Fish decisions are not to be rushed, so we spent quite a long time browsing all the gleaming and lovely fishes in the library of tanks. She bought two albino corys and a male and female guppy. Everyone hoping these poor soles will cling onto life. In the afternoon off to two parties. The first was at the other end of the twitten, which was a great opportunity to talk to lots of the pale denizens of the twitten. As I walked in with Lorraine, there were three young ladies singing a song about skeletons, which was a good omen. It was hosted by Louisa, who it turns out is almost my astral twin, being born two days after me in the same year. Really enjoyed talking to everyone as it was a very friendly gathering. Brighton is a good place. Lorraine enjoyed herself too, despi
Playtime Had a nice mooch through Brighton with Anton today. Dropped into the drum shop on Trafalgar street and chatted to the owner and timidly tapped all kinds of drums and percussion instruments. Then up to the guitar shop where there were some splendid guitars. I was gloating over several but tore myself away before I did something rash. Then we mooched on through record stores where Anton pursued his vinyl fixation, and was searching for something new and exciting to listen to. We didn't find anything, but it was fun anyway. We drank hot chocolate in Red Roaster. The chocolate there is so thick it is like some kind of runny mousse. Or at least a mule deer. Back home in the afternoon for a snooze and then did a couple of hours work on the dratted hogsite, before zooming off to Lorraine's in the cold, after scoring some beers and sorbets. Lorraine lives in a street where many of the neighbours are friends, and her pals Sarah and JD put on a curry night, where all the guests
All work and no play Up at seven and at work almost instantly. Fortunately the other job I was given yesterday proved easy, so I had finished that by 8:30. It often happens this way... You read the brief and go to bed. And overnight it's all processed by a team of homunculi with rolled up sleeves inside your brain, and bingo you've got the solution to hand the next morning. Then working on the hogsite all day, which is tantalisingly close to being finished, but still needs more work over the weekend. It's like gripping a wet bar of soap. At lunch did a spot of shopping, including buying a late pressie for Anna, and a pastie which I ate looking at the sea. Worked on steadily in the afternoon. Until my brain refused to do anymore. The Gnome sent his CV through for me to look at. A great job, and we had quite a long chat. He's doing fine, and sounds more optimistic and full of beans than he has done for a long while. Sat about playing guitar, which Calliope resents, for a
Mum finishes her chemo Mad Dog released back into the wild: a dark morning, with rain and seawind surging down my twitten. Quite pleased to close the door on the day, after I'd waved him off, and be in the warm working on the hogsite. Noticed a forgotten tie and a lingering soapy smell as evidence of Bob's passing through. Best news of the day was that I spoke to Mum and Mase, and Mum has been told that there will be no more chemotherapy. This is very good news, and she is looking forward to gradually returning to what passes for normal in our family. So a vast yippee! all round. Got a distress call from Betsy at the FB's agency, and I agreed to do a few lines for them on concepts, which I worked on this evening on top of the hogsite work. It all adds up, but all work and little play is making me feel dull. However have downloaded some music software called Mozart, and am writing my song down, just to see if I can do it. Wonderful how it will play what you've noted back
Hot dhansak Dratted footnotes. Gah. The hogsite is putting years on me. But the end may be in sight. Other than working had a nice evening with Mad dog who arrived at 5 and fought steadily with Calliope all night. We went off to play pool (my dismal form is maintained) and Bob thrashed me. Then had a cheeky couple of beers. Went for a curry at the usual place, Bob sternly (and he can be stern about these things) ordered a vindaloo (already the hottest curry on the menu) and told them in an intense way to make it a very hot one. As he forked into his vindaloo, he said disappointedly that it was medium. Meanwhile I had ordered a dhansak, halfway through this I realised they'd mistakenly made the dhansak violently hot instead. It was tasty, so I persevered. Later this led to dyspepsia throughout the night, which led to the cat waking up and cavorting around my head at three in the morning, as the pit of vile acid that used to be my stomach churned. Returned home to listen to the Chopi
Hogsite day I woke with Calliope, who has decided 6:30 is the new 7, rubbing her unspeakable, cat-biscuity mouth into my face. I was really thirsty but was unable to drink my bedside glass of water as the kitten had been lapping at it all night. Nice email from Catriona Stares from Guernsey telling me which of my poems is being used on Guernsey buses. I'm going to try to get a copy of one of the posters. Catriona is doing a great job of stirring things up in Guernsey artistically at the moment. Off this morning to Surrey for a three hour meeting with my pharmaceutical client to discuss the hogsite with the pleasant young Jamie, my contact, plus a saxophone playing strategist called Kay. Took a taxi through the countryside from Redhill through Reigate and beyond, and it is really beautiful and full of trees. The meeting was in a massive corporate boardroom despite there only being three of us, and it went far better than I could have expected. I came away with some clear guidance, a
Dragon's Dream Ate my own bodyweight today: a large breakfast in a local pub, then back home for a big Thanksgiving feed cooked by Mase. Tanya and Robert mum and Mason's pals came around too, and we had a fun afternoon despite Tanya talking about boiling frogs in socks in the Philippines. Socks? Yes hessian socks. Then Lorraine started talking about the uses of leeches and maggots in medicine, which put me right off my turkey for several seconds. Lorraine and I went home, and we were greeted ecstatically by Calliope, who had clearly given me up for dead after staying away last night. And after Lorraine left, the kitten superglued herself to me for the rest of the evening. Over the kitten's head read Dragon's Dream , the new book by Roger Dean . He famously did the Yes covers I poured over as a teenager, but he has also had fascinating approaches to interior design, and architecture which are still way ahead of their time. In the seventies Dean had a book called Views ,
On the buses, on the trains Received an email this morning saying that one of my poems is going to be in a Guernsey bus , like an island version of poems on the underground. It would be lovely to see it, but unless I invest in a pair of incredibly powerful binoculars, that won't happen till next year. Cheerfully off with Lorraine to London see Mum and Mase in Edgware. En route, Lorraine left one of her bags on the train, with clothes make up and so on in it. And we didn't realise until we had arrived. Mum is close to being finished on the chemotherapy. And it will be really great when this happens, but she is doing fine despite being somewhat worn out from all the treatments, and dealing with Salty the kitten. All white except for its tail. It has very pink nose and ears, and lets out an affronted lamb-like bleat when you pick it up. He lives in the lap of luxury, and has many toys and is constantly tempted with dainties, which may explain its round belly. In the afternoon, I h
Orange eye It is the sign of being a hypochondriac that my NHS doctor actually knows who I am, and is very friendly to me. There was a taciturn trainee mountebank in the room, so my doc went to great lengths to make sure everything was pukka. In passing I mentioned that my eye was sore and I got the full orange eye dye treatment and examination for corneal scratches etc. while I told them about the glaucoma pages I've been writing lately. Then to the pharmacy with a baleful orange eye. There a senior gentleman was explaining that vegetarians tend to look pasty, and it makes them more susceptible to flu. Back to work on a few pages of the hogsite: a smorgasbord of ailments today from arthritis to ulcerative colitis. Turned on the radio: a programme about ailments in the 17th century. Some days are themed whether you like it or not. After finishing for the day at 4, I called the Cat with the Hat, who I've not chatted to for some time. He was very cheerful about Obama and invitin
A random rhinoceros Lunchtime went to look at children's books. Imagine my horror after writing a book about a dapper skeleton all year to see a new, prizewinning book about a dapper skeleton detective called Skullduggery Pleasant. Bastards. Bastards. Had a look at it, and it seemed excellent. Fortunately the similarities are superficial, but still galling. Bought James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl which I read for the first time this evening. Lovely stuff. This on the first page made me laugh out loud. "Then one day, James's mother and father went to London to do some shopping, and there a terrible thing happened. Both of them suddenly got eaten up (in full daylight, mind you, and on a crowded street) by an enormous angry rhinoceros which had escaped from London Zoo.... Their troubles were all over in a jiffy. They were dead and gone in 35 seconds flat." Masterful. And also I bought Michael Rosen's Sad book which, like the Dahl, is illustrated by Quinten B
A jar of delights Calliope now consistently wakes me at 7. I find having a kitten stand on your head purring loudly is infinitely preferable to a blaring alarm. Got a text from Beth saying that Sushi the Siamese fighting fish had expired. I called her briefly feeling vaguely responsible. I have no idea why her fish are dying as in my fishkeeping experience she had done everything right. It brings the child out in Beth who got the tank as a 17th birthday present. Having named all of the fish, she takes each loss hard. Actually made some good progress today on the hogsite and felt that, it might actually end one day. A glimmer of hope as I rewrote copy about erection problems. Also spoke to nice folks in the FB's agency to ensure I will get paid for that job. Had a Guernsey bean jar on the go, filling the house with earthy beany warm smells. The comforting aroma must have inspired the kitten too, judging by the way she had to be restrained from climbing into the hot oven when I opene
Alice Russell Slipped free of my website shackles this evening to go out with Anton and Lorraine to see lovely Alice Russell at Brighton Komedia. It was the first night of her new tour, to promote her new album Pot of Gold and she and her great band, featuring writing partner TM Juke, put on a splendid show as usual. Acoustics very different there to when Anton and I last saw her last at the Concorde 2. But an excellent show with several promising new tracks, as well as my favourite Hurry On Home, which always reminds me of moving to Brighton. She also did the best version of Gnarls Barkley's Crazy I've ever heard. Very mixed crowd of old geezers like myself while Lorraine bumped into some of Beth's schoolfriends there. Alice is not really a diva, in the sense that she seems really approachable and likable. Someone shouted out ironically that she should be on X Factor. Which although quite funny, must also have been galling to someone of Alice Russell's ability. We all
In need of a cure Diseases all day. As I write this interminable website, I'm trying to focus on how it will pay for lots of Skelton Yawngrave time, and I should be really positive about it. Popped to the gym later, but all manly vigour was sadly absent. Cheered by a note from Nev reminding me of an agency Christmas party on a Cowboys and Indians theme. We went as cowboy plumbers with big wigs, tashes and white overalls drinking our Guiness out of Butch and Sundance mugs with spoons in. It was all Nev's idea. And jolly good fun it was too. Also cheered by calls from Anton and Lorraine. We're all going out to see nice Alice Russell tomorrow night, which will be top. Too numbed to do anything, I watched House tonight for the first time, and thought it had some excellent dialogue. Curses, even my downtime is about diseases.
Siamese fighting fish A spot of freelance topical fish consultancy today: the result was that Beth bought a gorgeous scarlet male Siamese fighting fish and three tiny neons for her new aquarium. As well as the fish, Beth also scored an unendorsed plastic SpongeBob SquarePants snail called Gary. Once these were installed, Lorraine and I finished off painting her bathroom and toilet. And Lorraine drove me home, where I had a quiet night, chatting to Mum Mase and Toby, and thinking about work. I wrote the following poem some time ago about being trapped by boredom, and the petty cruelties boredom can lead to. Boredom, as I have mentioned before, is an emotion I rarely experience. However the work I have been doing over the last month or so has, uniquely, made me feel trapped in my study. Siamese fighting fish bored stupid in my box room, I taunt the fighter in its tank. Betta splendens , a scarlet flag unfurling from Java fern; a murderous Narcissus who falls madly for my mirror. in the w
A new broom Today was a Doing Things day. Lorraine had a bathroom and toilet that had been stripped and waiting for paint for some months, so I suggested we simply did it. Off to B&Q where I ended up buying a new broom, while Lorraine bought paint. Then back to her place for a couple of hours of filling holes in walls with polyfilla, sanding painting and so on. I quite enjoyed standing about with cups of splosh, a copy of The Sun rolled up under my arm, and my trousers revealing the top of my posterior in the approved workman style. Also gave me the opportunity for coarse jokes about standing on stools in the toilet as I rollered the top of the walls. All in all a much-needed break from staring at screens and thinking about serious medical conditions. Painting walls is very therapeutic. Meanwhile Sam was lurking about with his new girlfriend called Ash, and sporting industrial-strength love bites. He seemed very cheery and attentive, which was good to see. I also saw his little tat
Hogsites and octopus Calliope alarm went off at a sensible 7:10 this morning. After I took her feet off my face, I peered out from my window to see the twitten thick with groundhogs. Yep. More slogging on the website for most of the day. The work, however, is quite interesting. I have learned something about the workings of the eye. Apparently the aqueous humour in your eyeball is produced by a tiny gland called the ciliary body. All is well when the same amount of this fluid is able to drain away, through a little spongy drain called the trabecular meshwork. But when the drain begins to get blocked, pressure builds up inside your eyeball and this begins to damage the optic nerve, which causes glaucoma. Glaucoma can be treated with daily eyedrops to keep the drains open, which is a good thing. Annoyingly the brain compensates for loss of vision so sometimes you only find out you have it when you have lost up to 40% of your optic nerve function. This is why eye check-ups are vital, and
Low riders I broke off at lunchtime from glaucoma, etc. for a nice half-hour massage at the Sundial clinic. These days there is little pain as the stored evils have been banished. She mentioned that, as I also carry tension in my lower back, next time she would release my gluteals. Because, she added, they are big muscles. I was not sure how to take this, but I nevertheless enjoyed the mental picture of sliding out of her room with relaxed, low rider buns. Had a conversation with my lovely French client who wants me to do lots more work with her next year in her new agency. I like working with her as she is always 100% professional. This is an arrangement which could guarantee a steady stream of activity next year - with plenty of time to break off and write about skeletons. Touch wood, financially things have looked fairly bright lately, in contrast to the rest of the world it seems. Being freelance at such a time is a good move, as you don't have all your eggs in one basket, and
Opening envelopes I have a fairly relaxed attitude to bills and official looking letters at the best of times. When the stars are favourably aligned, and I am bored, I will have a look at them. As I pay most things through standing order this is rarely alarming. However imagine my surprise when I opened a letter informing me that I had over £1000 in Standard Life shares, and have had for some time. Something which was news to me. Obviously in the two or three weeks the letter had attracted dust and an incisor mark in the corner from Calliope, these shares must have plummeted. But still, a nice surprise. Trying to work out if it's best to keep hold of them till the markets rally or whether to offload them. I know nothing about shares. So any advice is welcome. Otherwise a quiet day. Went to the gym early in the morning. I'm finding the weights fun and fairly easy. I must step up the cardio work, which is where the real health benefits are to be had, and I find more challenging.
Eyes. Eyes. Mince pies Spent the day knee deep in eye diseases, with only the man from Tescos delivery and the cat to distract me. Pleased I had a check up lately, so can keep the details of glaucoma etc. in the realm of theory. In the evening Lorraine and Beth came around to discuss a speech Beth is making at her old school. Beth seemed to know what she wanted to say anyway, but we had tea and the first mince pies of the year. Beth told me about seeing the Mighty Boosh who were rather good apparently. While they were here, Calliope worked her cat door unaided for the first time. I had poked her outside to cool off after tearing about the place wildly. She rushed back inside to rub her face on mine, purring happily. Spoke to mum and mase about Thanksgiving arrangements. Mason's American style Thanksgiving feed always signifies the onset of the festive period for me. Watching a bizarre film as I type called Underworld Evolution , a preposterous gorefest of werewolves and vampires
A Sunday in Brighton Up surprisingly early today. Went on a reconnaissance mission to a local car boot sale where Anna had made £80 the week before. Not a single thing I wanted there, but nevertheless interesting. Time to eye up things that I might be able to get rid of, as I have a hoarding streak and not much space. Back to Lorraine's place to feed her cats Brian and Basil, one of whom had registered disapproval by being sick on the carpet. I checked Beth's aquarium. Then we walked down to the sea where dark clouds and patches of sun created dramatic light effects. Stopped at the meeting point for a cup of splosh, and a shared rock cake. Walking home past the clock tower there was a horrid accident just behind us. The sickening thud of a body going under a bus. We walked back as Lorraine wanted to check (as a former ward sister she may have been able to help) but there was someone there doing the right things. Normally in emergencies I try to help, but this one I'm ashame
Mock turtle Woke up feeling somewhat better today. Down to the patisserie this morning to buy bread. Everyone in the shop clustered around a tiny puppy. These small animals make everyone lose grip of reality, especially me. Was pleased to see they all washed their hands before serving me my chewy brown bread afterwards though. Then Lorraine and I had a slow breakfast of kippers and toast, and read the papers. Calliope, despite pushing her face at the plates, spurned kipper scraps afterwards. Then as Lorraine went off to shop with Beth, I tidied up my front scrap of garden with the kitten charging about excitably with bits in her mouth, (see previous entry) and drawing coos of admiration from occasional passers-by. Kittens, like babies and puppies, are good icebreakers and should have been on the Titanic. My roses are still budding and flowering. As I pottered about I felt a deep welling up of joy not to be working on web pages however. Then off to the Library to join Lorraine for a wan