Pizza night

Short of sleep due to the cat barging me in the night, and onto the train. Feeling waves of cheer this morning. Friday, I suppose. A spell of commuting is a good reminder of the workaday world, and allows me to catch up on audiobook and podcast listening, and makes me feel utterly grateful not to have to do it every day.

Work fine and enlivened by popping briefly into my old agency and selling a book or two. Nice chats with some of my old cronies there. Rather brain dead by five thirty, and was pleased to find the ejector seat button. Once back into the comparative civilisation of the Twitten, bumped into Mark Bassey my neighbour, and he said he would be happy to meet Matt and I to discuss the trombone piece Matt is planning based on a poem of mine. It turns out that Matt is a huge fan of Mark, knowing his work for some time. Matt very impressed and pleased that he was my neighbour and had come to see This concert etc.

A fast shower and Lorraine called around, and we zoomed up the hill to experience one of Anton's famous pizza nights. These are easily the best pizzas in Brighton and the four of us sat about shooting the breeze, gorging on Anton-customised pizzas and drinking wine and beers, and generally catching up with the gossip. Anna's coaching is going from strength to strength, and Anton enjoying his new role. Lorraine and I feeling little pain as we floated downhill to bed afterwards.