A hero ascends

Lorraine still enjoying work, though the six o'clock starts aren't so clever. Woke up twice, once when my phone peeped with news of David Bowie's death, and a second time blearily to find Lorraine had left me a cup of tea, like a tea fairy this morning before heading off to school. Still warm too. 

I'm not one for mourning people who I never met too much, but I did feel sad at Bowie's passing or, to put it another way, grateful for his having been here in the first place. There are different Bowies, and while I quite liked his early incarnations I found it all a bit too pantomime to be truly taken to heart, unlike the frowny prog I liked at the time. However there were several of his albums I absolutely loved. Young Americans, Station to Station and most of all, Heroes. In later years I've come to like most of the earlier stuff too. And I had just started enjoying his Blackstar album too. 

Otherwise I woke early and tried to write some poems or bits of anything before the work came in. One of those days when the work arrived in unsatisfactory dribs and drabs. Had a soupy noodle lunch with Beth in the kitchen. She was recording an audition video to send off to some people doing an independent film in Portsmouth. She has got her go-faster stripes on.

Quietly tending to a shattered Lorraine when she got home (after we'd carried a few things about the place).