Squid, mackerel, lions, hatted cats and Cranes
Interesting day. Went for a swim after working, which I enjoyed despite painfully banging my knee on the stairs into the pool. After slumb'ring on the Norway foam for a bit, left the pool only to encounter a noisy demonstration about giant squid. More on that in the daywork.
Lots of telephone chats today, including with Louisa a neighbour who has suggested that we gate the Twitten by night to prevent some of the nocturnal rampages.
Then round the corner to the station to meet Mike, the Cat with the Hat. We jumped into a taxi and sped down to the Brighton Dome to see Gore Vidal in conversation with Andrew Marr. I bumped yet again into Andrew Comben as I did so, because I am stalking him. For some reason I'd not been inside The Brighton Dome before. A lovely venue.
I must have been one of the few people there who had never read any Vidal, so I had no preconceptions. He did the literary lion stuff, and donated various entertaining opinions about Bush being stupid and so on, informed by his background of senatorial purple, as Andrew Marr called it. Vidal briefly mentioned James Baldwin, who I had at least read, and said there were two sides to him, and you never knew what you were going to get when he came to dinner: either Martin Luther King or Bette Davis. Afterwards Mike confirmed the truth of this as it turns out that he knew Baldwin when he lived in France.
Then an enjoyable evening, feeling exceedingly Frasier Crane-ish scarfing mackerel and a bottle of Fleurie at Riddle and Finns, with Mike speaking his impeccable French with the waiter about the wine. Then a drink at the bar of the myhotel, which I'd not been to and was rather metallic and cool with marine fish tanks. Mike, having long missed his train, stayed at my house where we played many tunes and talked late into the night.
Interesting day. Went for a swim after working, which I enjoyed despite painfully banging my knee on the stairs into the pool. After slumb'ring on the Norway foam for a bit, left the pool only to encounter a noisy demonstration about giant squid. More on that in the daywork.
Lots of telephone chats today, including with Louisa a neighbour who has suggested that we gate the Twitten by night to prevent some of the nocturnal rampages.
Then round the corner to the station to meet Mike, the Cat with the Hat. We jumped into a taxi and sped down to the Brighton Dome to see Gore Vidal in conversation with Andrew Marr. I bumped yet again into Andrew Comben as I did so, because I am stalking him. For some reason I'd not been inside The Brighton Dome before. A lovely venue.
I must have been one of the few people there who had never read any Vidal, so I had no preconceptions. He did the literary lion stuff, and donated various entertaining opinions about Bush being stupid and so on, informed by his background of senatorial purple, as Andrew Marr called it. Vidal briefly mentioned James Baldwin, who I had at least read, and said there were two sides to him, and you never knew what you were going to get when he came to dinner: either Martin Luther King or Bette Davis. Afterwards Mike confirmed the truth of this as it turns out that he knew Baldwin when he lived in France.
Then an enjoyable evening, feeling exceedingly Frasier Crane-ish scarfing mackerel and a bottle of Fleurie at Riddle and Finns, with Mike speaking his impeccable French with the waiter about the wine. Then a drink at the bar of the myhotel, which I'd not been to and was rather metallic and cool with marine fish tanks. Mike, having long missed his train, stayed at my house where we played many tunes and talked late into the night.
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