Brighton interlude
Hobbled off to Brighton to visit the Japanese shop to buy authentic miso soup. Then visited the doctor to bleat about my health (the lump between my ribs nothing to worry about apparently). Then popped into The Real Patisserie to buy some savoury bits and some chewy brown bread. Took the eatables up to Janet and Ken to scoff them with a nice bowl of mulligatawny soup that Janet had made. A pleasant interlude. Ken rather tired, but much conversation with Janet on a wide range of subjects. She is sensibly opting to take a break from her Diva show next year.
Home to Haywards Heath (impossible to get used to saying that) and cabbed yawning back from the station. Then apart from a few urgent emails about Telltale Press and I was bone idle and slept.
Then watched World at War documentaries about the Final Solution and Japan. War really is Hell. Was struck by the everyday context for so much of the madness. The Kamikaze pilots for example knocking back a spot of sake before heading off to a glorious death. The warming sake remains, but luckily the other stuff has abated.
Lorraine came home and we drove out to buy fish and chips, which were rather excellent and we scoffed these at home watching Frasier. Early to bed, feeling guiltily lifeless with Lorraine is working so hard.
Note from the Tobster advising me in the strongest terms to read Karl Ove Knausgaard. I will, after I've finished The Fall by Albert Camus.
Home to Haywards Heath (impossible to get used to saying that) and cabbed yawning back from the station. Then apart from a few urgent emails about Telltale Press and I was bone idle and slept.
Then watched World at War documentaries about the Final Solution and Japan. War really is Hell. Was struck by the everyday context for so much of the madness. The Kamikaze pilots for example knocking back a spot of sake before heading off to a glorious death. The warming sake remains, but luckily the other stuff has abated.
Lorraine came home and we drove out to buy fish and chips, which were rather excellent and we scoffed these at home watching Frasier. Early to bed, feeling guiltily lifeless with Lorraine is working so hard.
Note from the Tobster advising me in the strongest terms to read Karl Ove Knausgaard. I will, after I've finished The Fall by Albert Camus.
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