Pasties for lunch
Listening to Philip Pullman on the radio this morning railing against the new requirement for authors visiting schools to be vetted, so as to prove their safety to work with children. "Why should I pay £64 to a government agency to give me a little certificate to say I'm not a paedophile. Children are abused in the home, not in classes of 30 or groups of 200 in the assembly hall with teachers looking on." He has a point.
On with the rheumatoid arthritis copy today. Toby packing this morning. Anton popped around at lunchtime to see the Tobster before he went, and we three ate Cornish pasties. Anton had brought with him the version of Skelton Yawngrave he'd printed out in duplex and bound with string. Having started to read it, he got me to sign his "first edition" saying that it would be worth a fortune one day. I certainly hope so.
Toby off to the airport, and I returned to the RA work. He called some hours later after his plane was delayed by three and a half hours. Having heard no more, I guess he made it, flying high above the thunder and heavy rain afflicting Brighton tonight.
A funny note from Richard this morning, describing the launch of Poems on the Buses, which was a farcical affair involving the police and much reparking of cars before they could begin. A great success by the end however.
Listening to Philip Pullman on the radio this morning railing against the new requirement for authors visiting schools to be vetted, so as to prove their safety to work with children. "Why should I pay £64 to a government agency to give me a little certificate to say I'm not a paedophile. Children are abused in the home, not in classes of 30 or groups of 200 in the assembly hall with teachers looking on." He has a point.
On with the rheumatoid arthritis copy today. Toby packing this morning. Anton popped around at lunchtime to see the Tobster before he went, and we three ate Cornish pasties. Anton had brought with him the version of Skelton Yawngrave he'd printed out in duplex and bound with string. Having started to read it, he got me to sign his "first edition" saying that it would be worth a fortune one day. I certainly hope so.
Toby off to the airport, and I returned to the RA work. He called some hours later after his plane was delayed by three and a half hours. Having heard no more, I guess he made it, flying high above the thunder and heavy rain afflicting Brighton tonight.
A funny note from Richard this morning, describing the launch of Poems on the Buses, which was a farcical affair involving the police and much reparking of cars before they could begin. A great success by the end however.
Comments