under another sun

Woke up on time, as I had remembered to set my alarm. James, who had morphed into a guardian angel last night, had arranged for everyone to have a wakeup call in the morning too. Up and dressed, and downstairs for a large breakfast. I was personally feeling fairly dreadful, having only had a few hours sleep and way too much to drink. These things are a matter of degrees, however, as some of the team had only been back at the hotel for a couple of hours. James went up to Dan's room and physically dragged him into the shower, to get him up. Cars arranged to take us to the airport. Snow on the ground. I was in the need of a good deal of water. The flight, from my perspective, abominable. Hungover, exhausted, too hot and as a consequence very edgy. Worst moment was going to the toilet, standing there noticing how much weight I had put on in the last few week, and then getting several searing chest pains. I looked into the mirror and thought, this is how it ends. I always knew it woul

Last day of the Summit meeting today. Downstairs to the breakfast room, scarfed a large breakfast, then hurried to the main room to be do the Voice of God, a good shepherd who advised people when to leave rooms and enter them, and did a few introductions to speakers. I did a fair amount of moving between floors to. As upstairs VOG I was more visible. After I made an announcement, one woman came up to me and said "I don't have any coffee." Sadly my powers to manifest a cup of coffee for her did not match that of the deity. As a team all the things that could have gone wrong did not go wrong, and the day was a success, should your tastes extend to dull, content-free corporate guff. Huge relief once the event was wrapped, and clients pleased. Some time then spent tidying up the office room we had spent hours in, and then upstairs to freshen up and then assembled in the bar. Finally then, at around eight, a chance to go out into Vienna. We went to an Italian restaurant, b

So today I was the Voice of God, the disembodied voice that booms out over a conference. I was told to get to the conference room, incredibly impressively decked out with projections, machines, wall posters and so on that I had worked on, for seven. I was five minutes late, but Dan, who was producing the whole show, slept through three alarms and so only pitched up some time after 8, when the show started at 8:30. He and Ash had been working till about four, madly enough. This gave me precisely zero time for rehearsal, and left me subject to the ever increasing concerns of clients, of whom there were more than 400 in the room. This all rather stressful. Me, as Voice of God, telling people to sit down, and then introducing the main speaker and doing a various bits of commentary during the day. Hard at first as I had no headphones, so was interrupted by myself booming off the walls, but it all settled down. I didn't have much time to be nervous. All was fine. There is a downstairs

Up early and shown to a table for one, and set off to the buffet to scoop up my breakfast bits. An enraged Austrian man snatching away my orange juice as he had been allocated the same table, and accused me of stealing it. Ridiculous creature. Once he realised that I had as much right to the table as me, he was a bit more apologetic. I suspected he was from the business whose are clients of the agency I am working for, so I treated him politely instead of punching his head, which is what he deserved. Talk about Entitlement. Lots of clients floating around as the events started today. I hold my own council at this stage. But the likeable agency folks very resilient. This is an immense event, in terms of budget, there was lorry loads of stage kit turning up, film crews, photographers, massive technology and staging, and even a team of three illustrators turned up to immortalise the workshops and the deathless attendees. A solid 12.45 hour day today for me, with a headache all day due t

So a long time in bed, but not so much sleep. That infuriating thing when you are overtired, restless, and then eventually furious because you can't sleep. I did sleep eventually, but did not make the best of the opportunity I had. The day itself not bad. Had breakfast alone this morning at nine, and then went to the office which has been set up in one of the hotel meeting rooms. Did some writing, also some folding of hundreds of place cards, and emptying of hundreds of memory keys out of boxes. Went down where the Summit is now taking shape, and it is visually amazing. Seeing my words and headlines projected on an enormous screen, that wouldn't be out of place at a rock concert, rather good although also making you pray for no typos. Feeling a bit twitchy about having to do the Voice of God stuff too, which adds a touch of stage fright to the proceedings. The event itself is Tuesday and Wednesday, but tomorrow, Monday, will be the day of horror by all accounts. After lunch I

Zombied up at seven o'clock in the Hilton Danube waterfront, (six UK time) and packed back the few bits I had unpacked, ironed a shirt and met Den outside smoking a cigarette. The taciturn taxi driver drove us to the Hilton Vienna hotel we are working for 7:30. Den and I talking about Cyprus, where his family are from. Ash and James had been out on the lash with the client all night. James had just a couple of hours sleep, and made off into Vienna to buy himself some fizzy hangover cure. I was fine, having only had two beers of course. Bloody tired though, with no weekend recharge. Work didn't get started for a couple of hours, a couple of hours I could have happily spent in bed. Den had another smoke outside, and I wandered across the road from the hotel and took the photo below. It was as far as I got away from the hotel all day. Still, a good breakfast, and then working on stuff in various business rooms all day. An enormous stage being built in the hotel. Dozens of pe

Lorraine and I running about getting ready this morning, packed bags but heading in opposite directions. She dropped me at Preston Park with Strangeface, my trusty old suitcase with a strange face. She drove to school, did a day's work and flew up to see Sam and Jade in Glasgow. Brief calls and texts today. I went up to Paddington, and left the office late afternoon with my Paddington colleagues Ash, James and Den, A zoom to Heathrow on the Heathrow Express. As we arrived at the airport, news of some kind of incident in Oxford Street, but it this turned out to be a scare, with nobody hurt. Twitchy about flying today. But we had a bite to eat in some place called Pilots. I judiciously got outside a pint of Heineken, which helped a bit. A cramped flight, very hot. Retained sanity by listening to the Kermode and Mayo podcast, stretching out a small can of Heineken for half the flight, and neurotically playing patience on my phone. Plane landed in fog, and clouds, so saw nothing

Thursday. Work mild-mannered again, but feeling a tad twitchy. A stroll around the Italian Gardens in Hyde Park at lunch, listening to a Start the Week podcast which discussed Robert Liston a Scottish Surgeon working in London in the 1820s, which made me feel sick. He was 6'2" and burly, apparently very good at sawing off legs, one he completed in 28 seconds. He was so enthusiastic, however, he cut the finger off an assistant, and splashed blood on a member of the audience (for there usually was a crowded audience) who died of fright. The assistant died of sepsis a bit later on, and the person they were operating on died too. It was, it was said, the only operation with 300% mortality. Not the most relaxing thing I've ever listened to. Talk about surgical theatre. Home at a reasonable rate, but trespassers on the line somewhere plunged the entire network into delay. Walked home from Brighton station, smashing my 10k paces limit with ease. Pat and Maureen at home, there

Lorraine drove me to the station. Work. I took full advantage of my lunch hour to mooch along the canals. The folks I am working with are mostly decent. Snapping the painted heron on a waterside wall. I've enjoyed walking along the canals very much. There are pockets of beauty all along it, everything from the floating leaves on the dark water, to the reflections of brightly coloured barges. Some of them are stinky though, when their engines are working. One or two places along there river, there seems to be meeting points where a few bargemen (it's always men) gather some of them drinking from beer cans. When I walk far enough there is a stretch under a flyover, there are two legless armchairs propped against the concrete and barbed wire wall there. They make me wonder who sits there at night. Left pretty much on time, and trundled home reading the Solzhenitsyn, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich book. It is short, but unrelenting. In the last couple of weeks, I have

Went to bed at 1:30am last night, waiting to sign off a document. My colleagues, however, had simply not let me know that the document was signed off without me, despite being in constant touch till gone midnight. Deeply unimpressed by this, but I took the sensible decision not to rage about it. More luckily, however, I am going to be able to work from home after I get back from Vienna next week should they need stuff doing. So I will be be returning home (from Heathrow, gah) next Thursday with a song on my exhausted lips. Lorraine working from home this morning. Walked to the station. Feeling tired on the train and trying to meditate. Once at Paddington, it was a particularly busy day, juggling urgent jobs. By the afternoon a strange calm had descended, and I slipped away on time. I had managed to go for a walk along the canals at lunch too. Have been walking over 10k every work day. Home on time, and bought Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich at Vi

An annoying day. Typing this at 11:45pm and still waiting for something to come through for me to sign off for work. At least I negotiated doing it from home. Only another ten days of this in a row. Gah. Nothing other than work and getting home late and waiting for work today. A nice walk in the drizzle at lunchtime. Passed under a bridge with three noisy boys smoking weed, and accidentally got half a lungful. Nice notes from my pal Tracey today. Beth much spoiled by John today. Lorraine tired and still coldy. A walk along the Grand Union Canal at lunch. A snap as it passes under the west way.

Up early and made breakfast early. A morning of laundry, and moving things from one room to another in the bedrooms. I also got a chance to try on my Santa suit, it made me feel Christmassy. Apparently, I will have two elves and be installed in a library, where, under my baleful influence, the children will learn to associate an interlude of Santaphobic horror with reading and books. Then Dawn came in her car, and drove us down into town where we went to The Eagle, where John and Beth arrived quickly. Beth sporting glamorously-curled birthday hair. We had the upstairs room, and it was a gathering for Beth's birthday. A cheery afternoon. with drinks and good Sunday lunches. Good to chat with John, and James who I think of as a kind of kindred spirit, and Amy, and Dawn and Rosie, and Alex and Luke, and Wayne popped in too with one of his pals. Just a cheery afternoon. Lorraine and I bought Beth some driving lessons. I see it as a good investment. Then home, and generally running

I made us breakfast in bed this morning, nipping out to the Choice Cuts around the corner, before heading back upstairs with Egg and Bacon sandwiches and more tea. Lorraine has a cold. Looking at the wallpapering that Cass has done in the big bedroom. I like the colour. Eventually we got up, and drove into town. It was raining. We bought some paint for the other bedroom, and then went to where Beth was teaching to pick up my Santa clothes for when I get home after being in Vienna. Then a spot of shopping, and returned home. An interlude of doing little on the gold sofa, before I caught the bus and went to visit Janet and Ken. I bought some brownies from a butcher's at the top of second avenue. Some amazing pies in there, and the brownies were great. A good chat cups of tea and brownies with Janet and I very pleased to see Ken at home, who seems in good spirits. Janet is about to buy herself a Honda Jazz. I like the idea of Janet driving about in a Jazz. Having seen Janet an

Up and had toast and tea with Mum this morning, before striding off to Stanmore. Passing a pile of frosted leaves in the street, and took a snap.  A fairly quick journey into Paddington, and the day fine. I snuck off for another wander around Merchant Square, and walking about on the floating garden, on a fairly bright day. The now traditional piece of work just before home time, but I managed to get it done and sprint off rapidly. Raced to Brighton, speaking to Lorraine on the train, and I walked up from Brighton Station, and met her in the Preston Park Tavern. Nice to gulp down a cold beer, and have some quality time with Lorraine, telling each other the story of the week. A meal then home to cheery cats, and the attractions of the gold sofa. Another week done. Always feel happy to be in Brighton. I don't miss living in London. I wrote a poem when I was about seventeen about the Autumn, and there was a line in it about  Winter stiff in Autumn's bones. This leaves brought

Kissed Lorraine near Preston Park station, then into London, reading. I had randomly picked up Canal Dreams by Iain Banks which I have carried in boxes from house to house for years. Now was the time I would finally read it. After 40 minutes I decided I hated it. The characters were cardboard, the writing useless and I didn't care what happened in this story, just as long as I didn't have to keep reading it. I gave it a good go though. Interesting how good writers can write terrible books sometimes, I googled it afterwards, and it seems that Banks thought it was his worst novel. I've only read the Wasp Factory , which while I thought was only okay, it was much better than this Canal Dreams . I had selected it based on my current spate of canal mooching. Into work, and a reasonable pace of things today, rather than yesterday's machine-like slog. A walk at lunchtime, first to the Smiths in Paddington station and a futile search for something decent to read. Then I walk

A day of slogging, loads of things to be looked at and written to meet certain deadlines. But the day sped by.  I managed to get out for a quick walk along the canals, while eating some sort of baguette. Strangely balmy temperature today. I escaped work and tubed over to Hammersmith. The line went through Latimer Road, where Grenfell Tower is. The tower is very close to the station, but it was dark and perhaps thankfully I didn't see much. Arriving in Hammersmith felt odd. I knew this area so well for so many years, but I no longer feel I belong to it in any way. I met Matty boy for a beer in the Thatched House pub in Hammersmith. Walked past one or two other pubs I have had fun nights in over the years.  First time Matt and I been for a beer in ages, and first time I'd seen him since his wedding. As usual, a wide ranging discussion. Felt really nice to see him. He ubered off home and I tubered off to Victoria, where I bought an overpriced chicken pastie and a bottle of spa

A day of sluggish slogging. Lorraine at least able to drive this morning, thanks to her car being fixed. A truncated lunchtime, eating a rice bowl by the canal with chopsticks. Then calling Anton, briefly, and Mum, to arrange for me to use their house like a hotel on Thursday. Trying to clarify when I'm needed till at work, and it seems I may have an extra few days to do in December. Lots of meetings today, and I finally got the brief I was waiting for, for the last few working days, at 5:30, so I did what I could and stayed for a couple of hours. Home at 9:35 after a taxi from Brighton, so not much of an evening before I went to bed. Lorraine had cooked spaghetti, which is my go to comfort food. Both of us snailed up to bed, too tired even for The Book of Dust. Cass doing great work in the big bedroom. Almost finished reading Mister Pip , today, by Lloyd Jones.  A good read, I'd say.

A cold morning, with a nasty north wind blowing. A happy one for me, as when I went to bed my ankle was beginning to feel weird, and I was expecting an outbreak of Orc-foot, but this did not happen. Also the coldy feelings that Lorraine and I both had over the weekend did not result in bad colds. Lorraine and I scrambled into her car, but the pesky thing wouldn't start. I had to set off walking to the station, while Lorraine arranged to be picked up and had to get the AA round in the evening to replace the battery, which was dead as dodo. Lorraine remarkably calm about all this. I got on my trains and as I stood up at Victoria, found I had been sitting next to Mandy, someone I'd worked with in Hammersmith years ago. Quick chat with her, before plunging down into the tube. Work was fine, if dull. Work to be done, though. Short walk by the canal, eating chicken and avocado sandwich.  Home, reading a book called Mister Pip , by Lloyd Jones that Dawn had given it to me for my b

Lorraine and I slow at crawling from bed, a token breakfast then soon we were heading to The Geese, to celebrate Catherine's birthday, with a Sunday lunch. Wayne, Guy and Tim were also there, and we had an extremely jolly meal. L & I had pork belly. A cold wind, as befits a Remembrance Sunday. And colder still when we left The Geese and headed home. Usual great chats with everyone. Such good company. Lorraine and I both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I also complimented the woman behind the bar on her amazing stag beetle tattoo, and she said she recognised me from the Shakies Head. Planning with Tanya a self-employed people's 'office party' in Brighton. Poor Lorraine had lots of work to do, I pottered about the house, did laundry, ironing etc. called Mum and generally had a bit of a sleep, as befits a Sunday afternoon after a good lunch. Doom-laden as I went to bed, as my ankle had started feeling odd, and I had forgotten to take my orc-foot pill in the morning. A

Up early for a Saturday. Lorraine got in touch with Cass, and by luck (for us) he had a job fall through next week so is able to decorate the big bedroom and the spare one for us next week. I went into town to pick up the wallpaper Lorraine had ordered from the post office and have a haircut. The barber doing a dip as he circle around the back of your head with the mirror to avoid the bald spot. I called him on it, and we had a laugh. Then home, both Lorraine and I lacking energy, and Lorraine feeling coldy. We went off in the afternoon to Hove, to talk about paint in a paint shop, and take five big bags of Beth's clothes and shoes to Martlets Hospice charity shop. Then we picked up Beth from teaching. We sat in the car park listening to the radio for ten minutes and talking about what the radio had mentioned, 'locker room chat of men'. I never speak to anyone in locker rooms. We looked at the i360 lit up like a UFO. I took an iPhone snap of it but it simply did not come

Toast and tea with Mum and Mas, fond farewells, then I walked off to Stanmore station. A painless journey to work, despite it raining hard just before I got to Stanmore. Had the best day of work at the Paddington agency so far. The suit Dan is on the ball and helping me get everything sorted, and I was given some extra work on aesthetic beauty treatments that I did quickly and easily, feeling like I was being my agency self again in a way I hadn't been for a while. The day passed quite quickly, and It being Friday helped too. Went to Pret at lunchtime and bought a wrap containing hummus and avocado and other green things. Instead of crisps I bought a packet of crisped kale. As I walked up some stairs a gust of wind blew this packet out of my hand, and showered the man climbing the stairs next to me with kale. I eventually retrieved the packet and scraped the rest into my mouth. Had a stroll along the canal then back to the office. Home rapidly too, and Lorraine picked me up a

Working on poems on the train this morning. A big meeting this morning, and lots of work fell out of that. The day passed quickly. A quick walk at lunchtime, and I ate my solitary rice pot by the canal. After work I travelled up to Stanmore. As soon as I arrived, we zoomed out again to go to the Harvester on the way to Mill Hill. Strapped on a protein heavy nosebag then. Really pleasant waitress made all the difference, as did a beer. Cheery time in there, Mas enjoying the salad bar. Then home, and I sat with mum and had a glass of wine with her in the back room and chatted about various subjects. I went to bed quite early. In the bedroom I found a load of photographs Mum had been looking through. I snapped one or two with my iPhone, not seen several of them for a long time. This one of Mum painting the name Chelsea on the gate of my grandparents house in Guernsey, is a historic moment in history of my family.

Took my laptop on the train and worked on my poems. The first Wednesday I'd not had a poetry reading since I've been working at Paddington, and quite a relief.  Still fighting for scraps of stuff to do at the agency, there will be an absolute torrent of work at some point, but it it all bottlenecked and I'm slightly dreading what will happen when it comes uncorked. Luckily I had a few things to do, such as write some stuff for an interview Louise Tondeur is doing on her site, and writing a bit of blurb for Tess Jolly's new pamphlet. This I did quietly. Sloped off for a walk along the canals at lunch, chatting briefly with Mum, and to Anton and Carl. Not spoken to Carl for some time, and it was good to be able to catch him. Despite not having much to do at work, I am still finding the commute and long days tiring. Maybe its something to do with the flu jabs Lorraine and I had at the weekend, both our arms are still a bit painful. Home on the train, reading a chapter

A sluggish start for me, luckily dropped off at the station by Lorraine. The connecting train was cancelled, but I still managed not to be late to work. Listened to a few podcasts, read a story or two by Rachel Joyce. They are okay, but somewhat clunky. Finished the collection on the way home. A bizarre day when there was little work for me to do. This always a bit uncomfortable, as you can’t blatantly relax into doing nothing.  However there were a few pleasant distractions. I heard from Tess Jolly, whose poetry I love, all dark and mysterious and asked to write a few lines for the back of her new pamphlet. Going through the MS, called Thus the blue hour comes and I found myself thanked in the thank-yous for having encouraged her in the early stages of this collection, which is was a lovely suprise. And also this blog post about my winning poem, by J.O. Morgan  on the Happenstance website. Very chuffed with this, as it is one of the new batch of short poems I wrote this year, wh

Up before the Monday larks with Lorraine, scraping ice off the windscreen before she drove me to Preston Park Station. A bright sunny day. Jumped off at Hassocks. Once on the Victoria train, started writing one of my new eight line poems about a Coelacanth. This jotted down, I started reading a collection of vaguely Christmas themed short stories by Rachel Joyce called A snow garden, a book that Dawn had given Lorraine and I a year ago. As I got off the train I spotted Matt Colborne in the crowds. He'd been on the train with me. A brief conversation galloping across Victoria station, he is living in London now. We bade each other farewell as I joined the massive queue outside the tube, which was let in after not too long. Someone baa-ing like a sheep as we the sheeple flocked along and down into the station. Into work, and not a bad day. Managing to get people to tell me what they want writing from time to time. Still a bit like getting blood from a stone. People quite chatty t

Up a little earlier today, and Lorraine and I determined to head off out into the country to go for a walk in a wood. We ended up going to the place we normally see bluebells in, and there was hardly anyone there. A bit squelchy but still very beautiful. I felt a bit wound up this morning, but walking through the wood and talking to Lorraine made me feel much better as usual. We drove home, pausing to buy a chicken and some eccles cakes to consume with coffee in the afternoon. Lorraine then did some preparation for school next week, and I found another agent to send my Children's book to, as the one I've sent it to has not responded to either the original MS nor my follow up. I found I had one a tiny poetry competition, which was nice. I will be sent a free book. The judge was J. O. Morgan, and I asked to be sent his new one. I have Interference Pattern, his last one, which I saw him read from in the last T.S. Eliot awards. Fairly pleased with this, as the theme was dreams a

Got up and went back to bed again several times this morning. I felt like Lorraine and I hadn't spoken much this week. And we didn't really embark on the world till the afternoon, when we went off into town and at four o'clock I was too late to get a haircut from my usual barbers. Instead Lorraine and I got a flu jab at Boots. We were ushered into the room together, which was quite companionable. I don't mind having a jab, but I didn't like seeing Lorraine having one. We were told to hang about for five minutes afterwards. I sat down and immediately began to picture the rapid death I was going to experience through anaphylactic shock. Lorraine went off to browse happily in Boots before returning to shepherd me out, grateful for life.  From there a short mooch to Indian Summer , a nice restaurant we've not been to before together. I think I went there once with Diane, Mum's old pal. Extremely tasty food, and a grown up atmosphere. We walked back, happy

Friday. Up and off to work. Lorraine dropped me at the station and I ran up the stairs and, puffing, caught the train by the skin of my teeth. Off into town, via Hassocks. Reading the last few stories of Good Evening, Mrs Craven: the wartime stories of Mollie Panter-Downes as I am on a mission to finish the books I started during the year. These home front short stories are mini-masterpieces of English manners under duress. To work, and the security badge I'd begrudgingly been given didn't work. I was sent down to IT where I was greeted unnecessarily grumpily. I gave them grumpy back with interest and it was soon sorted. The day panned out as usual, having to mind read what people wanted, due to the absence of briefing. A pleasant walk at lunch, though loping along in a tired way and my knee was hurting. In the afternoon the word programme on the laptop they've given me froze, and I lost three hours work despite all efforts to recover it. Asked by the CD to go for a be

Tired this morning, and very sluggish first thing but increasingly steady as the day wore on. Very happy I didn't drink lots of beers last night. But the journey to work fine. I get off at Hassocks to wait for the train to Victoria. Very foggy there this morning, and quite atmospheric. Finished We have always lived in the castle , this morning. Good book. Victoria full of servicemen with medals and a military band playing Beatles tunes. They were there again on the way home. In the tube, there was a recording of Dame Barbara Windsor asking for people to give money for the poppy fund. Work a little better. Have taken the initiative as there are no briefs, and you are supposed to know what to do by a process of osmosis. Still I had a nice walk at lunchtime, and walked a different bit of the canal, past big houses, one where Arthur Lowe used to live, and some lovely houses. Home, and Paddington tube was closed, so I had to catch a bus to Victoria. Otherwise home, and ate some st

Train cancelled, and a slower journey in. Standing outside the tube entrance at Victoria station, looking about me at everyone standing patiently looking at their phones. I looked at the sky, because you could see a bit of it. Eventually allowed to shuffle sheep-like down to the platform. Reading We have always lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson, which I didn't manage to quite finish. I had read the first chapter to Lorraine a few times, but it was one of those that made her fall asleep. Quite like its American Gothic ways. From work, which is disorganised and it seems I am going to have to do loads of long hours soon, which I feel wouldn't be necessary if they were a little more organised. Then a slightly trying journey to Betterton Street, and the haven of the Poetry Cafe. Mum was already there, and all the poets, and Sarah Barnsley. Sat with Mum till it was time to get organised. Sarah Barnsley was hosting the evening, and in good spirits. She and Abigail Parry ar