Chip Suey My former stepfather Gerald, who has not proactively contacted me in 30 years, sent me a Linked-in request today to join his business network. Didn't see that one coming. A hard to describe off-kilterness to the day. Cold moving onto the chest now. Bah. Working on the mystery prose for a few hours. Then called Janet to find out how she was and have a brief chat about politics and so on. Then into the city abuzz with people who have just been on a protest march through town. Vanloads of policemen to ensure that the lawfully protesting public sector workers: those selfish nurses, teachers, local council workers and so on who are having their pensions reneged on, didn't turn violent. After I met Dipak for a breeze-shooting session at Marwood's cafe. Discussing musician stuff (I'm an impostor) and hearing a rough recording of the Shakespeare's latest sonnet. This followed by a rendezvous with Lorraine at the Twitten to stuff a final box into the boot of the ca
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Stormy Writing prose for several hours today. What I am writing exactly I don't know, but it feels good to be doing it. Spoke to people about CD production. One company says they are unable to keep up with demand, which surprised me when I thought downloads were king. This means I am going to use the people in Brighton that Dipak and Richard used. Total gloom reigning in the Economy. I watched our unctuous Chancellor's autumn statement today. We are in trouble and will continue to be so for the foreseeable future. Lorraine phoning me to tell me about the wild sea she was driving past, prompted me to go for a walk. I found myself in a bad mood as I passed the protest camp that has grown up in the green lawns of the Old Steine and walked on the Pier towards sundown. The pathetic fallacy of the rough sea with the wind whipping the starling murmurations seeking refuge under the pier. Home in teeming rain, feeling rather better and I cooked a large vegetable chilli for Lorraine and
Camilla strikes again Woke up with a northern cold, souvenir of Yorkshire. Tended to only the most necessary of business, before abandoning myself to the luxury of reading. Finished A Prayer for Owen Meaney . What a cracking book, one of those books that it is a shame to reach the end of, although the end is brilliantly worked. Now reading Summer by Edith Wharton which seems altogether less good, although I enjoyed Ethan Frome . Otherwise had time to marvel at Jane's site Camillalookalike.com which if ever you need a Camilla lookalike it would be foolish to turn elsewhere, as is self evident from the picture below. Jane looks like the Platonic Ideal of Camilla.
The owls are not what they seem... is one of my favourite quotes from Twin Peaks. But Leeds, it transpires, is full of owls. The arms date from the Corporate Seal of 1626, when the Borough of Leeds was first incorporated by Royal Charter of Charles I, when the wealthy Sir John Savile, of Howley Hall near Batley, was elected the first alderman of the Borough. He was also M.P. for Yorkshire. The owls come from Savile family's coat of arms. Up gingerly this morning, and Lorraine and I met Sam downstairs for breakfast. I had not slept particularly well: too much to drink the night before, and the wind had been wuthering in the windows. We consumed a huge breakfast and then Sam and Lorraine went to buy a coat and I went to the Art Gallery. This proved to be closed, so I spent a happy hour before it opened rubbernecking in Leeds, which is much more attractive when not viewed in the rain. In fact it has magnificent buildings, and is a magnificent city. Nice streetnames too, including Swin
To Leeds So up earlyish and up North to Leeds. Bought a paper which Lorraine started reading and before we'd left the environs of Brighton was already experiencing an outburst of Tourette's Syndrome reading about The Tory Government's Education Secretary Michael Gove's approval of 'Victorian' (his word) standards by sending a version of the King James Bible to every school. While I would not deny the importance of this translation to the development of thought and literature in English (which even resonates in the lyrics of Bob Marley for example) what I object to is the fact that Michael Gove sees fit to write an introduction to it. Anyhow, the journey very painless and we found ourselves in Leeds at around 2:30. Raining, obviously, because we were up North. Mounted policemen (as there was a fiercely-contested football game) and generally more Northerners than you could shake a stick at. Our hotel pleasant, and a pleasant room with nice tiling, and one of those
A walk on the mild side Writhing and itching through the night, due to MSG. However once up began to get things done. Wrote to Simon Scardanelli after agreeing with Matt that the latest mix of the album was the one. Wasted half an hour waiting to talk to someone from the EDF power company. Out at lunchtime to go to the bank and I dropped in to Brighton Museum and Art Gallery to see an exhibition of Ragamalas , Indian miniatures inspired by music. Simply exquisite. Met Dipak this afternoon at Marwood's cafe, where they do - excuse me - a damn fine cup of coffee. We were discussing our CDs and hooking up with the Shakespeare Trio for a performance in February. We ended up going on a long walk, around the pier and then along the coast to the Marina where we stopped for another coffee and a beer and talked for some time in the Weatherspoons pub there, which has big windows overlooking the marina. As Dipak and I talked a murmuration of starlings gathered swooping in the air, as dusk arr
Chelsea buns Up with the sparrows, or considerably before the sparrows as the evil black cat that torments our cats was fighting with Brian through the cat door. It sounds as if people are crashing into the house at five in the morning. If I could ever catch that black cat I would give it a good hiding, for this is a psychocat: elusive and violent. It even went for Lorraine the other day when she was shooing it. So, up and finishing the brochure about short stature in children. Then other practical tasks to do with renting my house, taking meter readings, catching up with billing, popping into the gym and so on. Had a leisurely afternoon however and in the evening the cats and I watched a slovenly Chelsea performance where they threw away the game in the last ten minutes. I support Chelsea because of a currant bun. It is Dave, my Grandfather's fault. As a teenager, shortly before the second world war, he was working in his parent's cafe on the Esplanade in St Peter Port cafe.
An interlude of work Working on growth deficiency copy. But wonderfully this was being done from home, so I had three cats and worked with the sound of rain falling on the windows, which is a sound I love. The job took all day, and it was a quiet day and quieter evening as Lorraine had to stay away from home today having attended a conference. I met up with Gary in the Basketmakers and we his move into the Twitten for an hour over a couple of pints of seafarers. All good, and as well as having the rent money, will be delighted to have the place inhabited. Home and chatting to Lorraine on the phone, and trying unsuccessfully not to finish off the party snacks and cheese which are still lurking about. And so, shepherded by Calliope, to bed.
To the studio again Mopped the floor and hoovered this morning first thing, then after doing a few worky bits and pieces went to the gym before lunch in an attempt to reverse some of the excesses of the weekend. Two calls at the gym: spoke to Max as Elijah's favourite zebra toy has gone awol and to Gary arranging his move into the Twitten. Called the useless letting company to sack them. In the afternoon off to meet Matt at Simon Scardanelli's studio, and spent some time fixing the levels on track four. The mixing software playing up today however, so it all took a bit longer than it should have done. Then Matt and I repaired to The London Unity , which is just down the road, to have a quick planning meeting over a beer. We are going to formally launch the CD as close as we can get to Valentine's day next year, and the actual CD will soon be ready at long last. Matt told me again that Cem the violinist on the CD has had to temporarily stop playing due to RSI. Spoke to Mum
A hearty aftermath Up surprisingly early this morning after a few hours sleep. Lorraine and I up, finding a slightly-wan looking Betty on the sofa accessorised by three cherubic children who were all sitting on her. Gave Betty birthday presents -- as today was her actual birthday. Then a long slow morning nursing hangovers, Lorraine cooking breakfast and The FB and Max and Kate emerging with various need for liquids, toast and painkillers and antihistamines for Max's cat allergy. Matty boy returned looking fresh and rested after a night in a hotel, as did Richard Gibson and Maria. Richard was too worse for wear to cycle home the previous night, and searching for his guitar capo, which later on manifested itself in his jacket pocket. When everyone had left, Lorraine, Betty and I had a short few minutes doze, before starting the party again in the Sussex Yeoman where we ate roast dinners with Wayne and Matt. A cheery lunch before Betty had to go back to college. Then the rest of us m
Party time So today zooming about getting ready for a large party to celebrate Betty's 20th birthday and me and Lorraine living together. Lorraine off to get an astonishingly red hair cut n' colour which everyone agreed was rather smart. Then Betty, Lorraine and I going off to buy quantities of boozes and food in supermarkets, blow up ballons, prepare food and move furniture about. Very tired all day but a shower and a stiff drink worked wonders. Max, The French Bloke and their cherubic children Tahlia, Zemirah and Elijah arrived an hour and a half early, which effectively started the party with the children zooming about. Betty upstairs glamming herself up with two of her pals, watched awe-struck by young Tahlia and Zemirah. Another pal Linda arrived somewhat before the party started already drunk and slightly chaotic. Then lots of guests, First Matie and Matty Boy, The Shakespeare Trio who gave us a bit of a tune accompanied by Steve Cartwright on banjo, Claudius, Matt and Wa
Friday Friday thank goodness... Laughing aloud on the train reading Owen Meany. Spent the day in and out of a large room with folks talking about digital apps interspersed with bouts of work. I found myself drawing on a whiteboard two circles side by side, which made Keith snicker. Broke off for a sandwich with First Matie, and then back into it. Felt tired and jaded as I left work, as it had been a typical agency against the clock Friday frazzle. Fairly fast journey home however, catching up on a Melvyn Bragg podcasts, one about Continental philosophy which was particularly interesting, despite this I couldn't get home fast enough. Home, and I dragged Lorriane and Betty who returned today out for a celebratory curry. I was interested to hear Betty talking about the work she's been doing at college. Below two snaps in the still-autumnal London.
Leaves Up to London again. Working with Andy on a somewhat confusing pitch brief. Lunch with Keith and Hamish in a pub, me on chicken and two pints of soda and lime laughing about unfortunate medical accidents, starting with digital rectal examinations and prolapsed rectums and moving down market from there. In the afternoon Andy and I soldiered on, mainly in a room overlooking Tavistock Square's autumn trees shafted by low autumn sunlight. It was so beautiful that it kept drawing my eyes. On the opposite wall light and shadows were playing on the wall shifting and filtered through the leaves. Andy took a couple of snaps. After work a quick drink in the office with First Matie, The French Bloke and others, and found myself talking people's heads off about Mexico, smallpox and the Aztecs mode of warfare all about taking prisoners, rather than killing people (having listened to a podcast about it recently). The FB talking knowledgeably about Derbyshire Thicknecks, people with iod
Ticking the box Off again to London again this morning. Listening to Clameur and Shakespeare Trio bits and storyboarding wee videos for them in my head. Matt scheduled to finalise CD today but this has been bumped till next Monday so we can do it together. Trying to stifle dual waves of frustration at how this simple job has taken months to complete and how pitifully small my creative output has been in the last months. Very happy to be working again though, as this is boosting the Kenny coffers nicely and means I can pay all my bills. Just a bit more work and I will have money to live on too. Splendid. Working with First Matie today on fleas and ticks, which is always a pleasure, and taking a pitch briefing from Matt who is a stylish presenter these days. Home again reading Owen Meany still. Jolly good book all round. Home and had to pop in next door to babysit Joe for a few minutes while Mark went off to buy bread. They have so much on their plate, but the baby is now much improved a
Poetic interlude Up early and happily working on my new poem, which is about a pebble and God and is set in Moulin Huet, which was a rather nice place to spend a poetical interlude. Also I explored more on my other concept, which is too new to talk about but is a kind of 'how to' book. I also briefly tweaked some copy for Amanda in NZ who has added game inventor to her list of accomplishments. Her new board game is called Komodo, and sounds great fun if you like storming at your relatives and friends. Off after lunch to show Gary, Lorraine's ex-husband, around my house in the Twitten. He finds himself in need of one, and although a slightly weird thought at first, this may prove to be an excellent and rapid solution to my renting situation. Lorraine working from home this afternoon before going off to a governor's meeting. I was called by Nicola this evening, and have three days work back up in the smoke starting tomorrow. Rather good for the Kenny coffers, bad for poe
Happy Monday Damburst of ideas, and the best part of a poem written first thing this morning, and the outline of another project down this afternoon. Slipped off to Sainsbury's to buy ingredients for supper, as Lorraine would be home quite early. Cooked sausages and a mash made from butternut squash, carrots and potatoes with a little parmesan grated into it, plus a gravy thick with leeks, onion and a smidge of chilli, served with peas. It was good comfort food for Lorraine who was feeling the Monday morning glums. Off this evening to The Coopers Cask pub where The Shakespeare Trio were doing a full set. As well as Dipak and Richard, were Richard's wife Maria Grazia and Steve Cartwright. There was a good guitarist in support. They asked me to do a turn, so I read Revolution of the Eagles , and The Trojan , which were both heard attentively. Richard and Dipak were excellent, playing lots of new material. Beautiful fluent stuff, and particularly enjoying Dipak's languidly
Sunny Sunday A beautiful day today, more like spring than November. Lorraine and I busy, loading up the car to take things to the skip, some last bits from the garden of the Twitten, and random clutter from The Old Church Hall. Stopped off at Anton and Anna's place to give them two lovely advent calendars that Maureen had made for the children. The sea was unbelieveably silver in the low sun as we drove towards the marina. Lorraine had Bexy (her car) cleaned as it is going to be replaced by a new cheaper model due to the dreaded cuts. As the cleaners were about their business, we repaired to Cafe Rouge for coffee and moules & frites. Then, in the aromatic clean car, off to the garden centre to buy aquarium plants and talk to people about lights, as those in Betty's tank have failed. As we left a thief in a motorised buggy for disabled people was caught red handed making off through the door. Home, and much cheery cleaning of aquariums, and a large sort out generally. It w
Jelly babies and quiet beatles A terrible night's sleep. Had a vivid dream that I was on a plinth while a man in some sort of crow's feather costume loomed over me. Woke up rather sharpish from that one. Somewhat pale and wan today as a consequence, although orc foot improving steadily. Lorraine's and my missions of limited scope: we went in search of winter flowering pansies, and booze for the party we are holding next weekend. Bought a serious amounts of booze, and then found a garden centre over the downs where Lorraine happily nosed among the cyclamen and pansies, some of which we bought. We also bought some jelly babies, but these were the best jelly babies I have ever tasted. We guzzled an entire packet in the car. They were like the Platonic ideal of jelly babies bursting with fruit flavour and with a delicious texture all for £1.99 and made by sweetmakers of genius called Bon bon. I'm not one for sweets, but these were incredible. I need more. Home and both cra
11/11/11 ... had no mystical or numerological significance for me, as it seems to have done for some people. My Orc foot somewhat better today, though I had to cancel a planned yomp through the countryside this weekend with Anton. An enjoyable stint in Tavistock Square and especially nice to work with Nicola again after a few years, as she'd given me a copy of A Prayer for Owen Meany . Trains screwed up from St Panrcas, which necessitated cramming into the tube for a session of claustrophobia exposure therapy across London in the evening rush hour. Once at Victoria got the fast train home. I have been carrying a small black stone from Moulin Huet in Guernsey around with me. I read something in Owen Meany about how the indigenous people of North America thought everything had a soul, not just people. I found myself posing the question 'what if this stone had a soul?' And ended up thinking stony soul thoughts all the way home. To the Shahi, where beer was drunk and a chilli
Pass me my fez Off to the quack this morning as ankle still terrible. They are piping music into it the waiting room these days. I'm not sure Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin was exactly the right choiceand for doctor botherers. My very likeable quack gave me an prescription for gout pills, and Zapains (codine and paracetamol) and we laughed about them zapping the pain. After buying a gout stool, fez and smoking jacket, made off to London again. Work fine, loped alongside Nicola at lunch to score some food. She has leant me A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving which I began reading today. It is a wonderful book judging from the first 60 pages or so. One of Nicola's favourites. The character Owen Meany is tiny, and it is a rather fitting read as I am still working a bit on growth disorders in children. Home again, the Zapain working well, although making me feel vacant. Home to Lorraine, who had cooked a lovely meal, but had to go next door and babysit little Joe for half
Adam's ale Grim start to the day, foot extremely painful. Running late I set off armed with a hiking stick feeling tetchy and full of self-pity. Lorraine, qua rescuing angel, gave me a lift to the station. Sweaty on the train, next to a man smelling strongly of garlic, I tried to catch up on the concept work I could not do yesterday. Wet soap thoughts slipping away before I could grasp them left me wondering if I had lost 20 IQ points overnight, so tidied my stuff into my bag. Discovered that a capless pen had leaked all over my nice mushroom coloured trousers. Hobbled into work and drank four pints of water one after the other. Within two or three minutes my brain miraculously able to string thoughts together again, and I did more in the next ten minutes than I had done in previous hours. Clearly I had been badly dehydrated by painkillers and other pills I have been taking. Lunch a pleasant wander around the corner with First Matie to score baked potatoes. Helicopters roaring in
Mush head Orc foot in full flow now, making it painful to walk, and difficult to sleep. Really poor day's work: my brain utter mush. Trying to do concepts this afternoon around prostate cancer, and nothing of any virtue was emerging. Working with April, who is a nice woman from the US. Embarrassed and frustrated by simply not being able to think. Bumped randomly into Reuben as I popped out to score a baked potato. Talked to the property people who I've outsourced trying to find a tenant for my house to while I am working in London. They eventually called back as I was on the toilet. Being caught literally with your trousers down is not conducive to taking the stern line I'd planned with them (as they are proving useless). In pain, tired and fed up, celebrated homecoming by pesistently moaning to Lorraine, poor girl. Mood much improved as Lorraine had cooked a delicious chicken stewp (part soup, part stew). I had two bowls and, briefly, stopped moaning.
The return of Orc foot Bad night's sleep and woke to find the dreaded Orc foot had returned: I am hobbling again and grimacing with pain and a Sauron addiction. Cramped, uncomfortable journey into work even more trying. I like working in Tavistock Square however, and noticing as usual at this time the patterns made by the autumn plane tree leaves driven flat into the black road surface. Work fine, but the trains were doomed, which meant I had to hobble across town to take a different route home, thus galling ankle even more. Gah. The journey home was fine and I finished linished listening to I, Partridge, We Need To Talk About Alan , which was very funny in parts. Absolutely loving Just Kids by Patti Smith too. Delighted to get home, and revel on the gold sofa with Lorraine if only for an hour or so. And so to bed, feeling dead beat.
Recharging Felt a good deal brighter this morning, although my ankle is griping after the gym session. Really laid back morning, having a slow breakfast with Lorraine, and then we went food shopping. I enjoy shopping with Lorraine. Then home to chat to Beth and Kayleigh who'd stayed overnight. Beth back to college this afternoon so we four had a large Sunday lunch. It had been really nice to see her. After she left, Lorraine and I spent the evening on the sofa reading. I am thumbing through 'Just Kids' an autobiographical book by Patti Smith talking about her relationship with Robert Maplethorpe. I am really enjoying it, despite not really knowing either artist's work paticularly well.
Guy Fawkes Night Up just after 5am delighted the cats with an early breakfast. Lorraine had to go to a conference about leadership today, so I contented myself with trying to catch up with everything I've let slip over the last week or so, with only a small degree of success. Beth up and out without eating off to see Mark and other pals. Tired and an upset stomach, but I went to the gym thinking this would make me feel better. Working up in London has made me fatter within a week and a half. Went to Anna and Anton's. Watched Anna on TV in a programme about mackerel, filmed catching them and then making them into sushi, and giving a rather assured interview about her opinions about mackerel. Then the family and I drove off in Anton's swanky new BMW to Martin and Sam's place in Hove. Lorraine arrived shortly afterwards. Martin and Sam have a nice house, and there was lots of nice food and hot punch available. Klaudia was the only girl and there were six or eight boys run
Friday at last Kept awake by the stormy night, and what my Hypochondriac's Handbook (a thoughtful recent gift from Richard and Jane) tells me is Chinese Restaurant Syndrome. Up hideously early walking through a rainwashed Brighton. Train slow this morning, crawling north. Work quite hectic. Agency Fridays are often a bit frenzied as everyone rushes to meet deadlines of one sort or another. Deafening fireworks near the office, then spilled out onto the street at 5:30 with The French Bloke, and had a lightning fast drink before I caught my train. The FB is growing a moustache for Movember , and it is making him look like Lemmy out of Motörhead. Straight to The Basketmakers. Betty, Lorriane, Matt, Wayne, Cath, Linda and Linda's mate Karen squeezed around two tables. Supped pints of seafarers and talked to all these friends for hours, before Lorraine and I with Cath walked home. Beth collected by Amy and Jamie. L and I bidding farewell to Cath outside bloody Ace pizza as I had not
Secret Squirrel Stole away from Mum and Mason's house in the morning, full of crumpets and armed with four home-made jams (2 crab apple and 2 wild plum)and off into London. A happy day today. Had slept very well at Mum's house and was full of beans. Off with Keith at lunch to buy a salad. And a very fast drink at the agency with Matt and The French Bloke before zooming off to Brighton where I had a secret squirrel mission. Met Betty at Brighton station at around 8 o'clock. Betty looking very slim, and she was in a day early to suprise Lorraine. Lorraine out doing some school govenor training, so Beth and I ordered a Chinese takeaway and sipped a cheery beer together in a pub just around the corner. Texted Lorraine who discovered me talking to a mystery blonde a few minutes later. Lorraine and Betty very pleased to see one another, after I had collected the chinese meal and we all forked it down with gusto. And so to bed, rain thundering on the velux windows.
Up to Edgware Whimpering quietly to Lorraine about having to get up at 6:30. How is it that 7:00 is fine, but 6:30 is unutterably appalling? L often gets up at this time, and so her sympathy was rationed. Listening, during my morning's commute to the tracks from the CD. It is a work of towering genius, even if I do say so myself. Into town and another pleasant day's work, including presenting work to Germans about flea collars and writing more about short stature in children. A brief lunchtime interlude with Keith and Karam in a pub. Karam talking about high and lofty things. In the evening up to Edgware to see Mum and Mason and rather nice bottle of wine, kindly provided by Toby and Romy. A good deal of cheery sitting about and eating with them. Afterwards Mum showed me her flat cats, and puma heads, which I thought were particularly fine. Phone call with Tash, Matty boy's athletic acting sister whose wedding reception L and I went to in the summer, about doing some work t
The smiling beer London again, sans pinches or punches. Feeling quite cheerful, and reading the paper on my kindle. Particularly following the story about the anti-capitalism protesters camping outside St Paul's and the PR disaster for the Church of England this has turned out to be, who now appear to be siding with city fat cats rather than people who are trying to assert a moral standpoint. One protester contrived a placard which said 'What would Jesus do' which has prompted, I imagine, some soul searching in the Church. Work fine, and cheery to be working with people I really like. Working on growth disorders today. An interesting area. Found myself reading about psycho-social short stature, which is a condition where a stressed child does not grow in size. Apparently JM Barrie experienced this, which may have fed into Peter Pan and the idea of a boy who did not grow up. Gallingly I managed to delete the last couple of hours work as the very last thing I did before I lef