Fireside tales
Spoke to mum, who is hoping to be released back into the wild on Monday. I hope so. Otherwise Lorraine and I had a leisurely time of it before Lorraine drove us up to Chertsey Meads to visit The French Bloke and Max. First Matie and Matty boy were there too. Greeted by the four children barking like dogs, as they had been playing with Puffin. It was the first time Lorraine had met them Max and the FB.
The FB showed me the inside of his Winnebago, which I have had occasion to sleep in over the years. It has been gutted, and Michel is rebuilding to his own specifications. I wondered how he gets the energy and time to rebuild immense vehicles and assemble motorbikes from new pieces. He is the CEO of an organisation, has small children. Great to see Max too, looking bouncy and cheery as ever, and clearly being a wonderful mother.
I was asked to tell the children a bedtime story, and I riffed around some Skelton Yawngrave material. The girls all very bright. Zamiera an angelically blonde curled little thing of three, kept looking at me round eyed asking are you reading this?
Then out to sit by in the warm by a big firepit barbecue in the cool night, onto which the French Bloke sizzled pieces of meat and sausages. I enjoyed sitting outside around a fire with my old friends. Everyone talking and even some reading of my poems, and naturally a good deal of drinking. I sloped off to bed, supervised by Lorraine, rather worse for wear, but having had an excellent night.
Below photography and framing skills hindered by drink, but here is The French Bloke talking to Matty, sadly not framed.
Spoke to mum, who is hoping to be released back into the wild on Monday. I hope so. Otherwise Lorraine and I had a leisurely time of it before Lorraine drove us up to Chertsey Meads to visit The French Bloke and Max. First Matie and Matty boy were there too. Greeted by the four children barking like dogs, as they had been playing with Puffin. It was the first time Lorraine had met them Max and the FB.
The FB showed me the inside of his Winnebago, which I have had occasion to sleep in over the years. It has been gutted, and Michel is rebuilding to his own specifications. I wondered how he gets the energy and time to rebuild immense vehicles and assemble motorbikes from new pieces. He is the CEO of an organisation, has small children. Great to see Max too, looking bouncy and cheery as ever, and clearly being a wonderful mother.
I was asked to tell the children a bedtime story, and I riffed around some Skelton Yawngrave material. The girls all very bright. Zamiera an angelically blonde curled little thing of three, kept looking at me round eyed asking are you reading this?
Then out to sit by in the warm by a big firepit barbecue in the cool night, onto which the French Bloke sizzled pieces of meat and sausages. I enjoyed sitting outside around a fire with my old friends. Everyone talking and even some reading of my poems, and naturally a good deal of drinking. I sloped off to bed, supervised by Lorraine, rather worse for wear, but having had an excellent night.
Below photography and framing skills hindered by drink, but here is The French Bloke talking to Matty, sadly not framed.
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