under another sun

Betty still in her student digs, evidently in some pain which began to wear off as the evening progressed. Sacked my charming plumber whose heel dragging was explained when he said he'd be unable to do the work for weeks anyway. A new plumber will look at the Twitten first thing Monday. Found myself irritated by this. I think it is because being the captain of my own destiny has been harder this year than in recent years. It must be the same for many in these difficult economic times. This translates into frustration when I fail to get a plumber to be straight about a job I will pay him for.  Luckily though I have pinpointed these feelings, and need to work to change my attitude. Also did some billing, then spent much of the day much more happily, working on the business book, and editing the introductory 'Orientations' section, to make it leaner, harder-nosed and less fluffy. Also finished Brideshead Revisited , which I'd really enjoyed. Perhaps it was because ...

Betty ill tonight with a painful stomach, and was regularly phoning Lorraine for reassurance and advice. Eventually her pal Olivia went with her to hospital, and she was admitted with what may be appendicitis. Betty being brave though, and Lorraine sleeping fitfully and worried through the night. As for me, I was working again on my business book. Took myself for a walk through Brighton, then home and then back to the twitten to let Alf the plumber in to measure wires for the installation of a new shower. This apparently depends on the advice of an electrician who wasn't answering his phone. Sometimes any kind of progress is hard won. Cooked a bean jar today, for the first time in ages. It turned out well, and I found the aroma of its beany goodness very comforting as it slow cooked through the day.

A slow start to the day, Lorraine and I revelling in not having to get up. Eventually hunger for Quorn sausage sandwiches drove us up. Plus the arrival of two secondhand books, one by Roland Barthes, the other about HG Wells. I had to go to the twitten, to let the plumber in. I misread my times and got there an hour early, and had to wait. Alf the plumber was running late, so I ended up having to wait for almost two hours. Luckily I had my notebook and a pen with me, and used the time to work on my new poem. Alf could find nothing wrong with the shower, after many tests. Then into town to go about the important business of buying new underwear and socks from Marks and Sparks and a MacBook Air from the Apple shop. Lorraine with me thank God, as the place was incredibly crowded as the iPad Mini was just launched.  I would have simply gone away and returned another day. Lorraine compelled someone to serve us right away, after being told it may take between 5-10 minutes. Lorraine s...

Oddly weak and shaky today, but thankfully succeeded in not turning this into a festival of hypochondria. Worked fruitfully on the New Idea this morning, and then made off to the Twitten to let Alf in to fix the shower. He was almost an hour late, and as it was raining hard outside I sat at my old table and listened to a movie podcast on my iPhone, feeling a bit like an intruder in my old house. In the evening Lorraine and I taxied off to see John, who has having a dinner party with his pal Wendy, a Glaswegian woman who works in HR for major stores. She was nice. Wayne, Matt, Lorraine and me were the other guests. We celebrated eight years of John having lived in his current flat, which overlooks the sea at Hove the view serrated by verdigris green beach huts extending along the seafront. Lots of tasty food, and pleasant chats - although an undercurrent of sadness from John I think, as he moved into the flat after breaking up from...

Up a ladder Up early and off to the Twitten as Alf the plumber came to check my gas. This the final check I needed before I can begin to rent. All fine until the very last thing he checked, which needs an electrician to make sure the gas is properly earthed through the electricity box. Gah. However I had a very productive morning dabbing paint on here and there, gardening and generally tidying. Also took some photos of the place to put on Gumtree, which is a site for advertising houses to rent among other things. Got talking to Merlin, one of my neighbours in the Twitten. He was cutting his hedge, which drifted small bits of debris onto the widow frame I was painting. But he kindly lent me a large ladder which I precariously ventured up a few times to peer at windows and so on. Good view of the Twitten under a wonderful blue sky. Merlin rather likeable and works charitably supplying bicycles to Africa. Home in the afternoon, Lorraine working from the home office. I did a few bits and ...

Fast forward Unable to find the fast forward button. Work dragged interminably and I was longing to be at home. This unlike me. The Van Gogh-alike creative director returned from a two day absence. He is good at his job. But this experience has confirmed, if any confirmation was necessary, that I have to be my own boss or work collaboratively. When six o'clock came around at last, and I bolted from Glamoursmith as if pursued by enraged pitbulls. Elated on the train, as I have only one more day in Glamoursmith (Monday), and then I am going to focus on PK stuff. Plus the French client coughed up what they owed me, which made me feel that some celestial log jam may at last be freeing itself. Richard and Jane are getting married on the 15th April, and so Lorraine and I are going to zoom over to Guernsey for a few days of spring niceness and a celebration. I'm really looking forward to it. Home and Lorraine was at my house, having worked there this afternoon while Alf the plumber di...

A bat out of Balham Up at Lorraine's and some steady pottering about helping her to sort things out. Found ourselves in a nearby greasy spoon having egg and bacon sandwiches, with cups of splosh and reading a tabloid. I went home to feed Calliope and then bought some food for Lorraine's house and we did some more sorting and carrying. Then I left Lorraine to it for a while. Home and First Matie called around to drop off the tape recorder and have a cup of tea, also Alf the plumber came and fixed my shower, and relieved me of a wad of cash. In the evening I shot up to Balham as it was Lakshmi's birthday with a present and a card. The train from Clapham to Balham full of noisy teenagers, and oldsters tutting at them. It was ever thus. A massive effort of will prevented me tutting along with them, being forced to listen to some tinny grime tune emanating from a mobile phone. Rather pleased I was bearing a present, as Lakshmi gave me a PG Wodehouse book of short stories publish...

Home at last Mercifully home today. Calliope working hard to completely wake me and Lorraine up at seven. I left Lorraine dozing and was about to start work, when the connectivity gremlin meant I had to spend the next hour or so on the line to a lady somewhere in India. Something about Vista, BT and McAfee updates spells doom. And there is something too about the branding of an organisation that calls itself British Telecom having all its telephone staff in a different continent which is slightly confusing. Off then to buy catfood having achieved nothing at all. Lorraine off to see rellies. Me back home to do the work for my pharma client and some other bits. All in all a good session today though no skeletons. Also sidetracked this evening by a computer game called Combat Wings, based on the Battle of Britain. As a person who constructed dozens of Airfix kits as a boy (as did any other right thinking lad of the same vintage) being able to "fly" a Hurricane and shoot down ass...