Dawn of the unread
Wintry morning, and Sussex hit quite badly by a bit of snow, closing schools and leaving people stranded overnight on the motorway into Brighton from London. This did mean that Lorraine could work from home, choosing to do an endless report on a school which took her all day.
I finished, putting in several more hours, the pesky freelance job, made difficult by a mushy brain brought on by a extremely bad night's sleep. Good, professional client called David. This helps immensely. A bit of simple politeness and a willingness to listen on both sides can help get great results.
Out to a meeting nearby this afternoon, and the snowy streets starting to thaw. Walked up the hill following a group of boys scooping snow off cars and menacing each other with it. One appraised me with a handful of snow, but sensibly thought the better of it.
I had to nix the journey to Chichester to see Clameur performed. Tiredness, and reinvigorated prostatitis meant the prospect enduring the train disruption and shivering miserably on platforms did not appeal, especially as Matt, who was also dubious, told me there were questions about the conductor and choir arriving. Evidence, if any were needed, that the Kenny fame repellent remains in robust working order. However, if it happened, the performance will be recorded.
Started to read Nadja a short book by Andre Breton the famous Surrealist. Not the easiest of reads, but after a tedious and clumsy first third (doubtless fine PhD fodder), it has clicked into gear and become a fascinating depiction of an enigmatic relationship.
This follows my policy of reading all the novels I own but have not got around to reading. Happily there is quite a backlog. I don't Smeagol my read novels as I do with my poetry collection, so my novel collection has a high proportion of the unread. Loving my reading at the moment. It is keeping me sane and cheery.
Otherwise a nice enough day. Like having Lorraine at home, and being able to grab some lunch together and chat while working.
Below, a local Internet meme going the rounds this morning and icicles in our tiny back yard.
I finished, putting in several more hours, the pesky freelance job, made difficult by a mushy brain brought on by a extremely bad night's sleep. Good, professional client called David. This helps immensely. A bit of simple politeness and a willingness to listen on both sides can help get great results.
Out to a meeting nearby this afternoon, and the snowy streets starting to thaw. Walked up the hill following a group of boys scooping snow off cars and menacing each other with it. One appraised me with a handful of snow, but sensibly thought the better of it.
I had to nix the journey to Chichester to see Clameur performed. Tiredness, and reinvigorated prostatitis meant the prospect enduring the train disruption and shivering miserably on platforms did not appeal, especially as Matt, who was also dubious, told me there were questions about the conductor and choir arriving. Evidence, if any were needed, that the Kenny fame repellent remains in robust working order. However, if it happened, the performance will be recorded.
Started to read Nadja a short book by Andre Breton the famous Surrealist. Not the easiest of reads, but after a tedious and clumsy first third (doubtless fine PhD fodder), it has clicked into gear and become a fascinating depiction of an enigmatic relationship.
This follows my policy of reading all the novels I own but have not got around to reading. Happily there is quite a backlog. I don't Smeagol my read novels as I do with my poetry collection, so my novel collection has a high proportion of the unread. Loving my reading at the moment. It is keeping me sane and cheery.
Otherwise a nice enough day. Like having Lorraine at home, and being able to grab some lunch together and chat while working.
Below, a local Internet meme going the rounds this morning and icicles in our tiny back yard.
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