Rolling up the trouserlegs
Up at seven, and a spot of admin and payment chasing, and writing for a few hours before Toby surfaced, enticed by a cup of tea.
As Toby groggily regrouped, I went off for a haircut, where I mentioned that my brother was over from Canada. The hairdresser quizzed me as to whether he had come over for the Pride parade in Brighton this weekend. Saying that he hadn't, made me feel curiously homophobic. So I had to add perhaps over-eagerly that I for one would certianly be enjoying the parade, which wasn't quite right either.
A few nasty moments this morning having discovered I no longer had my manbag and, much more importantly, my camera. I called Zizzi and after describing its ink-stains, was told they had it.
Returned home fully manbagged again, Toby showed me his excellent Argentinian photos. Some beautiful images.
Then I went for a massage, which was free - having introduced Lorraine to my back crackers. I had a huge knot in my shoulders apparently, I felt a good deal better afterwards, despite the whole process being quite painful. These massages do me a world of good.
Toby came with me this afternoon as I dropped my poetry manuscript The Revolution of the Eagles off at The South's buildings which billed as The Place for Writers. A psychological Rubicon that felt excellent to wade across.
Toby and I then spent a happy couple of hours wandering about on the seafront talking. The tide was low, exposing a smidge of sand at the base of all those pebbles. The sea was full of swimmers, and I would have happily plunged in if I had my swimmers with me - as the sea was very warm, for England. Instead Toby and I rolled up our trousers and paddled about for a bit, only missing our knotted hankerchiefs. This was actually really enjoyable and cooling. Toby was wishing Romy was there too, rather than being manacled to a desk.
Tobs and I also had a chat with Mum today, who is sounding bright and cheery. Also I spoke to Sophie, who apart from chiding me for not calling her, is revelling in the prospect of a holiday.
In the evening Toby and I went out for a drink in The Battle of Trafalgar with Lorraine. Toby enjoying his manly pints of the unimpeachably nice Harvey's bitter. Toby and Lorraine seemed to get on well, and were naturally talking about education and schools quite a bit.
Lorraine off in a taxi, and Tobs and I then settled down to watch some Vic Reeves Big Night Out before bed, which was my idea.
Up at seven, and a spot of admin and payment chasing, and writing for a few hours before Toby surfaced, enticed by a cup of tea.
As Toby groggily regrouped, I went off for a haircut, where I mentioned that my brother was over from Canada. The hairdresser quizzed me as to whether he had come over for the Pride parade in Brighton this weekend. Saying that he hadn't, made me feel curiously homophobic. So I had to add perhaps over-eagerly that I for one would certianly be enjoying the parade, which wasn't quite right either.
A few nasty moments this morning having discovered I no longer had my manbag and, much more importantly, my camera. I called Zizzi and after describing its ink-stains, was told they had it.
Returned home fully manbagged again, Toby showed me his excellent Argentinian photos. Some beautiful images.
Then I went for a massage, which was free - having introduced Lorraine to my back crackers. I had a huge knot in my shoulders apparently, I felt a good deal better afterwards, despite the whole process being quite painful. These massages do me a world of good.
Toby came with me this afternoon as I dropped my poetry manuscript The Revolution of the Eagles off at The South's buildings which billed as The Place for Writers. A psychological Rubicon that felt excellent to wade across.
Toby and I then spent a happy couple of hours wandering about on the seafront talking. The tide was low, exposing a smidge of sand at the base of all those pebbles. The sea was full of swimmers, and I would have happily plunged in if I had my swimmers with me - as the sea was very warm, for England. Instead Toby and I rolled up our trousers and paddled about for a bit, only missing our knotted hankerchiefs. This was actually really enjoyable and cooling. Toby was wishing Romy was there too, rather than being manacled to a desk.
Tobs and I also had a chat with Mum today, who is sounding bright and cheery. Also I spoke to Sophie, who apart from chiding me for not calling her, is revelling in the prospect of a holiday.
In the evening Toby and I went out for a drink in The Battle of Trafalgar with Lorraine. Toby enjoying his manly pints of the unimpeachably nice Harvey's bitter. Toby and Lorraine seemed to get on well, and were naturally talking about education and schools quite a bit.
Lorraine off in a taxi, and Tobs and I then settled down to watch some Vic Reeves Big Night Out before bed, which was my idea.
Comments
Mandy