On air with one engine
Hung-over this morning. Up and an early breakfast, and gradually got my act together, after a harassing text from Jenny wrote a fast poem to be performed on her show at noon. Having done these and then packed, off to Icârt for a breath of air, chatting to Richard on my mobile in the little windswept lanes. A stunningly beautiful breezy morning, and Icârt looking heavenly.
But little time for stopping and staring. Caught a bus into town and slunk into Le Petit Cafe, for another dose of good coffee. Then a cab to the BBC where I sat in reception with the lovely Joan Ozanne. We were soon joined by Richard and Lyndon Queripel. Shuffled into the studio at noon, which was full of sausage rolls and doughnuts brought by the previous guest. A bit of rather crap banter from me, then reading the slightly ghastly poem I'd misguidedly penned this morning, and then I read another person's poem and cleared off. You can hear us here from 2:36.
Then slunk out to be taken to the airport by John, Jenny's husband. I liked John and was interested to hear about his written projects, and we may meet up when I next return.
Cup of splosh in the airport, Jenny calling to say goodbye, and compare notes on the programme. A sense of foreboding came over me as I boarded the plane. This not helped by a disabled girl making shrieks and groans in the row behind me, and the fact that one of the engines did not work. An engineer climbed aboard and after about 40 minutes the pilot announced that the engine seemed to be okay now and we'd take off. Seemed was not a word I was particularly enjoying in this context but luckily had a window seat by the offending engine so I could neurotically check it. Outrageously the stewardesses missed giving me a complimentary drink too, and my seat wouldn't sit upright. I was very happy to land again.
Back to Brighton. All good. The house nice and tidy after Beth cat sat Calliope. Spoke to Mum and Mas and Lorraine.
Below from Icârt Point this morning, and a snap in the studio. Holding the camera above my head and so completely missed Joan Ozanne. L to R Lyndon, Richard and Jenny.
Hung-over this morning. Up and an early breakfast, and gradually got my act together, after a harassing text from Jenny wrote a fast poem to be performed on her show at noon. Having done these and then packed, off to Icârt for a breath of air, chatting to Richard on my mobile in the little windswept lanes. A stunningly beautiful breezy morning, and Icârt looking heavenly.
But little time for stopping and staring. Caught a bus into town and slunk into Le Petit Cafe, for another dose of good coffee. Then a cab to the BBC where I sat in reception with the lovely Joan Ozanne. We were soon joined by Richard and Lyndon Queripel. Shuffled into the studio at noon, which was full of sausage rolls and doughnuts brought by the previous guest. A bit of rather crap banter from me, then reading the slightly ghastly poem I'd misguidedly penned this morning, and then I read another person's poem and cleared off. You can hear us here from 2:36.
Then slunk out to be taken to the airport by John, Jenny's husband. I liked John and was interested to hear about his written projects, and we may meet up when I next return.
Cup of splosh in the airport, Jenny calling to say goodbye, and compare notes on the programme. A sense of foreboding came over me as I boarded the plane. This not helped by a disabled girl making shrieks and groans in the row behind me, and the fact that one of the engines did not work. An engineer climbed aboard and after about 40 minutes the pilot announced that the engine seemed to be okay now and we'd take off. Seemed was not a word I was particularly enjoying in this context but luckily had a window seat by the offending engine so I could neurotically check it. Outrageously the stewardesses missed giving me a complimentary drink too, and my seat wouldn't sit upright. I was very happy to land again.
Back to Brighton. All good. The house nice and tidy after Beth cat sat Calliope. Spoke to Mum and Mas and Lorraine.
Below from Icârt Point this morning, and a snap in the studio. Holding the camera above my head and so completely missed Joan Ozanne. L to R Lyndon, Richard and Jenny.
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