Frost and fun

Frosty roofs and lawns this morning, with ice in the bird baths and in thin plates on the little fish pond. I got up and toyed with a few poems, adding no value at all. Brain moving at gastropod speeds, but nice to be back at my desk at least trying. 

This struggle soon interrupted by a man in a lorry, who arrived with lots of long heavy boxes and a good deal of glass, which will, when assembled by an expert next week, will create a greenhouse. We left the glass stacked, and took the rest down to what we are calling the work 'ouse. Lorraine's masterplan for the garden is taking shape.  We also moved geraniums etc into the summerhouse to stop them getting frosted again.

Lorraine cooked us up a lovely veggie soup, and after I mooched off to the gym. Spoke to two people in the changing room -- one of whom gave me advice on repelling creatures that dig out your flowerpots: chilli powder apparently. Much friendlier here in Seaford, and to be in a gym where the average age isn't 21. While I was straining at some weight machine, Lorraine phoned asking me to pick up a ball of baby pink wool for the nose of the rabbit she is making. The woman in the fabric shop directed me to a charity shop which had balls of wool and one was luckily a fetching baby pink.

In the evening Lorraine and I went to Seaford Station, where we met Anton on the platform. Lorraine then hopped on the train to meet Betty in Lewes. I stayed with Anton in Steamworks, and took advantage of happy hour -- the booze cheap. Anton loves it in there, as it reminds him of station bars in The Good Soldier Švejk. 

He told me the horror story of Klaudia having quinsy again, when she came home last weekend, and having to spend days in hospital on a trolley. Poor thing. It comes on so quickly, apparently.

Had a cheeky drink there, and then, in the icy cold, nipped over to Bengal Palace opposite the station. First time in there... Decent grub and friendly staff, although it wasn't that promising when we walked in, two elderly folks shivering in the window over a cups of tea. Slightly bafflingly, we were given two menus -- that looked as if they were from different restaurants.  One of which contained dozens of dishes with unfamiliar names. We ordered one from the Madras region, which turned out to have a strong nutmeg flavour. Strangely under-seasoned and for the first time in my life, I actually added salt to a curry, but otherwise very tasty and didn't give me a weird reaction like the one I had from the Moon of India around the corner.

From there Anton and I hurried back across the frosty street to Steamworks, and sat over a radiator and had an absolute bloody final before Anton's train came. I stayed there a bit, finished Anton's abandoned drink and then had another chatting to the barmaid and a bloke called Shuggy who I impressed by identifying that the music that was playing was from Burning Spear. Nice chat with him and Tash who was filling in behind the bar, she has five children apparently. Anyway, Lorraine's train had stopped mysteriously at Newhaven, so she had to hop on a bus to return home. It took a few minutes, and she collected me and led me home, top hat somewhat askew. A cheery day.