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, including finding traces of early Viking farming - which is rather contra to their fearsome image. A nice roast there, I had Sussex venison, which surprisingly wasn't deer.
In the evening out to see the Burning of the Clocks, which lights up the darkest night of the year in Brighton. I love this, and it really feels like putting the old year to rest. With marchers carrying their clocks, samba drummers and tens of thousands of people out to watch. Went with Anton, David (Anna's dad) Lorraine, and Tash. And we repaired afterwards to The Cricketers for a Winter warmer.
Below various clocks, a blurry abstract shot, the final pyre, part of the crowd lit up by firework flashes, Lorraine and Tash.
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, including finding traces of early Viking farming - which is rather contra to their fearsome image. A nice roast there, I had Sussex venison, which surprisingly wasn't deer.
In the evening out to see the Burning of the Clocks, which lights up the darkest night of the year in Brighton. I love this, and it really feels like putting the old year to rest. With marchers carrying their clocks, samba drummers and tens of thousands of people out to watch. Went with Anton, David (Anna's dad) Lorraine, and Tash. And we repaired afterwards to The Cricketers for a Winter warmer.
Below various clocks, a blurry abstract shot, the final pyre, part of the crowd lit up by firework flashes, Lorraine and Tash.
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