Of gin and vitamins
Up early this morning, Sam called around and we drove off to Lorraine's house to pick up Beth and Mark and then she drove us to Basingstoke. Sustained munching of Harribo sweets, and leg numbing of the young 'uns squeezed in the back. They were all off to a family party, while I was dropped off at Basingstoke station -which I associate with some of my grimmer days at IBM -and was shortly collected by Shaila.
Shaila's home was already decorated with two Christmas trees. Soon, however, Shaila was letting me try lots of things she has foraged from the nearby fields. So, with an excellent home rolled sushi lunch, we had a nip of sloe gin. (Shaila has a degree in biochemistry so explained her decision to make this gin was medical, as it is good against colds.) Also a lovely elderberry cordial, honey with rosehips, and a pinch of nettle seeds. Later we ambled into local fields where she has been working with the local wildlife trust sowing meadow wildflowers. The weather turning very cold as we did so, and the rain beginning.
I also had a long chat with her 17 year old son Chris too, a very bright and interesting boy. He has an interview at Magdalen College soon and he wants to be a writer.
Interestingly he is a fan of tabloid troubling Pete Doherty. I don't know too much about him other than I think he conforms to the yawnsome, self-destructive stereotype of 'troubled genius'. A while ago Chris made his way to Doherty's house and was invited in and befriended, and they have met several times. Chris showed me a painting done by Doherty, spattered with his own blood, which Doherty told him to give to his mother. Instead of admiring someone from afar, Chris simply and directly went to talk to him, which I think shows an unusual level of self-possession, and it does Doherty great credit to be so engaged with and encouraging to his fans.
After these conversations Lorraine came to pick me up, buzzing as I was with gin and vitamins. Then off to Mum and Mason's in torrential rain. Arrived safely to conduct some serious knife and forkwork: a turkey thanksgiving dinner. They'd also invited Ben and Poppy and Robert and Tanya too, and I had fun chatting despite forking down far too much food. Conversations ranging from Robert talking about the financial meltdown in Dubai, to Strictly Come Dancing which Poppy adores.
Up early this morning, Sam called around and we drove off to Lorraine's house to pick up Beth and Mark and then she drove us to Basingstoke. Sustained munching of Harribo sweets, and leg numbing of the young 'uns squeezed in the back. They were all off to a family party, while I was dropped off at Basingstoke station -which I associate with some of my grimmer days at IBM -and was shortly collected by Shaila.
Shaila's home was already decorated with two Christmas trees. Soon, however, Shaila was letting me try lots of things she has foraged from the nearby fields. So, with an excellent home rolled sushi lunch, we had a nip of sloe gin. (Shaila has a degree in biochemistry so explained her decision to make this gin was medical, as it is good against colds.) Also a lovely elderberry cordial, honey with rosehips, and a pinch of nettle seeds. Later we ambled into local fields where she has been working with the local wildlife trust sowing meadow wildflowers. The weather turning very cold as we did so, and the rain beginning.
I also had a long chat with her 17 year old son Chris too, a very bright and interesting boy. He has an interview at Magdalen College soon and he wants to be a writer.
Interestingly he is a fan of tabloid troubling Pete Doherty. I don't know too much about him other than I think he conforms to the yawnsome, self-destructive stereotype of 'troubled genius'. A while ago Chris made his way to Doherty's house and was invited in and befriended, and they have met several times. Chris showed me a painting done by Doherty, spattered with his own blood, which Doherty told him to give to his mother. Instead of admiring someone from afar, Chris simply and directly went to talk to him, which I think shows an unusual level of self-possession, and it does Doherty great credit to be so engaged with and encouraging to his fans.
After these conversations Lorraine came to pick me up, buzzing as I was with gin and vitamins. Then off to Mum and Mason's in torrential rain. Arrived safely to conduct some serious knife and forkwork: a turkey thanksgiving dinner. They'd also invited Ben and Poppy and Robert and Tanya too, and I had fun chatting despite forking down far too much food. Conversations ranging from Robert talking about the financial meltdown in Dubai, to Strictly Come Dancing which Poppy adores.
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