Chugging and choking and baking
Working on the New Idea again first thing this morning, then up off peak to London, Walking up from Embankment station, I found Villiers Street choked with chuggers collecting for Cancer Research UK. After being approached for the third time I said, probably in an tetchy way, 'I don't do chuggers, love' to which the angry response was 'I'm not a chugger, I am a charity fundraiser'. The people doing it are just doing their jobs, and are happy to have them, but I detest being guilt tripped in the street by complete strangers.
On a happier note, I had a cheeky beer and a catch up with Keith in the Salisbury, who has now moved on from Tavistock Square. I often get pains in the back of my head when I am with Keith because I am grinning so much.
I then hoofed in the rain to Victoria where I caught up with Paul in the station Weatherspoons, and travelled with him on the train as far as Croydon. Reprehensibly we sipped from a mid-afternoon can of beer on the train. Paul is doing work with The Big Issue, and he told me about going out on the street and unsuccessfully trying to sell the magazine for a couple of hours near Victoria. Paul is always fully committed to whatever he works on, and is now thinking about how the covers can be changed to make them easier to sell.
Back to Brighton and I simply fell asleep on the sofa, not long after almost choking to death on a piece of Ryvita smeared with dry organic peanut butter. Had a blameless evening in with my Lorraine. To bed early, where we watched a curiously comforting programme called The Great British Bake Off in her iPad. The worst thing that can happen in this world is that a tart has a soggy bottom, or that pastry has been over handled. Sheer escapism. Trouble is that it makes you want to eat pies.
On a happier note, I had a cheeky beer and a catch up with Keith in the Salisbury, who has now moved on from Tavistock Square. I often get pains in the back of my head when I am with Keith because I am grinning so much.
I then hoofed in the rain to Victoria where I caught up with Paul in the station Weatherspoons, and travelled with him on the train as far as Croydon. Reprehensibly we sipped from a mid-afternoon can of beer on the train. Paul is doing work with The Big Issue, and he told me about going out on the street and unsuccessfully trying to sell the magazine for a couple of hours near Victoria. Paul is always fully committed to whatever he works on, and is now thinking about how the covers can be changed to make them easier to sell.
Back to Brighton and I simply fell asleep on the sofa, not long after almost choking to death on a piece of Ryvita smeared with dry organic peanut butter. Had a blameless evening in with my Lorraine. To bed early, where we watched a curiously comforting programme called The Great British Bake Off in her iPad. The worst thing that can happen in this world is that a tart has a soggy bottom, or that pastry has been over handled. Sheer escapism. Trouble is that it makes you want to eat pies.
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