Monkish business
A few decisions this morning. Wasn't going to speak at a festival, which I'd been invited to, but the organisation has been so shambolic I realised gleefully that I didn't have to put up with this sort of nonsense any more. Long conversation with Mex today too, whose career is facing some challenges, and also amazing opportunities.
Then off see the Mike, the Cat with the Hat. Naturally there was a bit of hat business to be done first, and before I left I popped into Madhatters to see if his hats had arrived (they hadn't).
A sunny day so I sported my new Panama straw with a black band, and travelled off to Longfield in Kent. This is an area I'd never been to before, and was quite small and countrified. Mike quickly turned up in an expensive open top car wearing an almost identical hat. I jumped in next to him, and the one white, one black combination of largish middle aged blokes wearing straw hats in an open top sports car proved rather amusing to two schoolgirls outside the station. Then to Waitrose where I followed Mike, who sauntered about buying bags of salad.
We arrived at his home, in an old converted farmhouse, with a large garden with apple trees and various crop vegetables, even grapes. I also noticed as he showed me around that there were seven hats to hand in his sitting room.
Spent many hours discussing business in his kitchen - we've come to an agreement that I am going to help him with the strategic marketing side of his publications business - and there is a lot to fix. But we also broke off for long bouts of Jazz, including Theolonious Monk, who I've never listened to properly and, it transpires, is absolutely fabulous. His timing is unlike anyone I've heard.
The Cat with the Hat singing along to the Monk's jazzy mad runs as he expertly prepared baked fish and salsa and salads, which later we fell on hungrily, sipping a crisp and cold white wine. Mike breaking off to talk to his sweet-sounding seven year old son in French on the phone about several matters including hats.
Then the longish journey home again to Brighton, arriving home at 11:30 and going quickly to blessed bed.
A few decisions this morning. Wasn't going to speak at a festival, which I'd been invited to, but the organisation has been so shambolic I realised gleefully that I didn't have to put up with this sort of nonsense any more. Long conversation with Mex today too, whose career is facing some challenges, and also amazing opportunities.
Then off see the Mike, the Cat with the Hat. Naturally there was a bit of hat business to be done first, and before I left I popped into Madhatters to see if his hats had arrived (they hadn't).
A sunny day so I sported my new Panama straw with a black band, and travelled off to Longfield in Kent. This is an area I'd never been to before, and was quite small and countrified. Mike quickly turned up in an expensive open top car wearing an almost identical hat. I jumped in next to him, and the one white, one black combination of largish middle aged blokes wearing straw hats in an open top sports car proved rather amusing to two schoolgirls outside the station. Then to Waitrose where I followed Mike, who sauntered about buying bags of salad.
We arrived at his home, in an old converted farmhouse, with a large garden with apple trees and various crop vegetables, even grapes. I also noticed as he showed me around that there were seven hats to hand in his sitting room.
Spent many hours discussing business in his kitchen - we've come to an agreement that I am going to help him with the strategic marketing side of his publications business - and there is a lot to fix. But we also broke off for long bouts of Jazz, including Theolonious Monk, who I've never listened to properly and, it transpires, is absolutely fabulous. His timing is unlike anyone I've heard.
The Cat with the Hat singing along to the Monk's jazzy mad runs as he expertly prepared baked fish and salsa and salads, which later we fell on hungrily, sipping a crisp and cold white wine. Mike breaking off to talk to his sweet-sounding seven year old son in French on the phone about several matters including hats.
Then the longish journey home again to Brighton, arriving home at 11:30 and going quickly to blessed bed.
Comments