Time travel and Afghan kebabs

Enzo first thing. Sitting between us on the bed. All very sweet. I fed him this morning with his breakfast mashed Weetabix and blueberries, after he'd shown no interest in it half an hour before. Beth and James called round and hung out chatting while the bambino had a nap. We are going to go to France soon for a cheeky week.  

Lorraine potting again today, and having a much needed day of downtime. Chatted to Mum to decide on what day I'm seeing her. I went to the gym, then I made off in the evening to Brighton to meet up with Anton. 

 

A lot to discuss. Work has been hell and it has been making him consider his options. We mooched about in Brighton, shooting the breeze. He said he had found a YouTube video of Psychobilly band called Guano Batz, that had played in the Klub Foot in the Albany pub in 1987. It had been close to  Hammersmith Station, but long gone now. He had found film of himself in the crowd. It's like time travel. 

We stopped at an Afghani take away and eatery called Zafron. Had an absolutely fabulous and huge meal in there for next to nothing. Brilliant. Had a drink afterwards in a book-lined bar, and were about to play some dominoes when Anton's pen started gouting ink all over him. He went to the bathroom to wash some of it off, meanwhile a strange young guy came and sat in his seat and looked at me blankly. A woman staff member came and asked him to leave but it was a bit odd. I wondered if he might be having a mental health episode, but then he was gone.

An absolute bloody final half in grand central and then I was on the way home. Lovely to see him. Home on the dangerous trains. 

Below The Guana Batz crowd in 1987. You can see the top of a very dark haired Anton below the outstretched hands; Lorraine and Enzo playing a spot of piano, which sounded a bit like a horror soundtrack.