under another sun

A thick sea mist for much of the day. Recording with Robin. Wrote, then went for two walks, mid afternoon, and then in the evening. Lorraine off to do her pottery course this evening, and really enjoying it.  Thanks to Adele I made enquiries about joining a life drawing class, which is held in a Women's Institute hall around the corner from me (and which doubled up as a polling station in the election). I made contact with a woman called Melissa who runs it. I thought it might be nice to do something not to do with words.  Fog on The Salts, and then clear this evening down by the sea. 

Up slightly later, and Beth drove Lorraine was off to the fracture clinic. Turns out the doctor she saw there was a parent of a child at school. Good news, however, the break was very clean and Lorraine now has a wrist support rather than a sling, and has been told she can do light things, such as a bit of typing, with the hand. Getting the cast off was good, and prevents L having to probe with pokey things under the plaster when she felt an itch. Meanwhile at least another hour spent in a futile search for my Harry Potterish lost spectacles. I have now spent four or five entire hours ransacking the house from room to room in search of the bastard things, which I still believe must be in the house. Made a bean jar today, but somehow it wasn't right. Slightly too much carrot, and an hour undercooked in its slow cooking process, nor did I add real chicken stock. Worst of all, as I had no fresh parsley, I experimented with coriander. It transpires that coriander in a bean jar is a...

Lorraine and I basking in it being a Monday and simply sprawling in bed instead of zooming around.  Eventually we got up to eat kippers and go shopping. When we returned Pat and Maureen were waiting for us at home, having been dropped off by Pete. They were here to look after the cats, and also have a change of scene. Lorraine cooked delicious eccles cakes, which we all ate enthusiastically. I spoke to Mum on FaceTime too. Maureen heavily absorbed in the French Open Tennis tournament on TV.  Pat and Maureen certainly love their sports tournaments. Maureen showing us photos of their first great grandchild, called Finlay, who although I am no expert, is one of the better babies. I made a hideously long list of things to be done on my return, which includes creating a campaign for A Glass of Nothing in Edinburgh, get all my accounts straight and send them to the accountant, finish the novel I was weeks away from finishing, send some blinking poetry manuscripts out, keep my bus...

A good morning's writing, although Lorraine called me on the way to work saying Dawn's mum had died. I texted Dawn for both of us while Lorraine was driving. It had not been a surprise, and she had family all around her when she went at home. Personally, I was feeling clearer in the head today. I have been in a bit of a mental fog all week due to Gerald's death and Andy's death and beginning to get twitchy about money. But a week's work has arrived for next week, thanks to my pal Keith, which offers welcome boost to the Kenny coffers, and with a new client to boot. Then off to the gym, also much needed after being locked indoors for the last two days. Walked down with Betty who was also off to her gym for a frenzied personal trainer workout. We left in sunshine, Betty in shades, and by the time we reached Preston Circus we had walked into the cold sea fog which was covering most of the City and crept back to cover the whole town later. I've never known a  wi...

Thick fog again today. Lorraine and I drove up to see Mum, however the journey up plagued by traffic and thick fog took us almost four hours to reach Barnet Hospital. Lorraine doing heroic driving in difficult conditions. Spoke to Anton en route, turns out he had fallen down a hill playing with Oskar's new motorised car, banged his head, cricked his neck, and bashed up his body. Couldn't feel his arm for half an hour. Apart from a stiff neck he is okay now. We had planned to pick up Mum but we so late we met her at Mason's ward. Mas sitting up and quite chatty, and seemed to be a bit brighter than when I last saw him. A nice enough ward and a young doctor who mason said, correctly, was a bit of a Clarke Kent. Nice to have Lorraine there, who was chatting lots and feels at home in hospitals having been a ward sister in a earlier manifestation. We gave Mas some Christmas presents, and he was in fairly good spirits. Drove mum to a nearby pub restaurant for a drink and a me...

Lorraine and I had plans to go out to a wood and look at bluebells. But naturally, as it was a bank holiday, there was a thick fog and drizzle. I like the fog as it makes everything a suggestion, so that the valley and its housing estates was gone, and the far hill with the windmill was invisible all day. A day of laying low. Difficult to nail down the French holidays. Then Lorraine doing lots of preparation work for tomorrow, Beth learning lines, and I cooked a roast in the evening and spoke to mum on FaceTime.  Later I watched Chelsea draw with Spurs 2-2. A spikily, bad tempered match featuring eye gouging, mass scuffles, and filthy tackles. The result, however, of Spurs not winning meant that Leicester became the least likely winners of the Premiere League since it began. Rather pleased for them, which judging by Facebook and other media seemed to inspire people with the notion that anything is possible. Below, a view from the kitchen window.

Foggy morning, and in the morning I looked out of the bedroom window and there was a tide of fog further down the hill, like a dark cloud blotting the rest of Brighton out. Feeling lethargic but as there was work to be done for my chums in Chiswick, and mes amis in Paris a cocktail of charity work and flea treatments. At lunchtime I walked down to the costume shop to take back my Frankenstein humps, and Lorraine's black necklace. A gorgeous day and I stopped to admire the secret garden and the fallen leaves. Spoke to Anton this morning. Otherwise little of consequence to report. An evening spent listening to music with Lorraine, and Beth when she finally got back from work. Loving our new sound system. Below looking down on the fog, which obscured the rest of town, and later in the walled garden.

Foggy morning in Brighton. Lorraine and I looking out only able to see the next row of rooftops below us, and the gulls perched on the roofs standing against a pearly grey background. Rained lots today too. Lorraine home this morning, and returned early after a meeting. Beth with a sore throat. I happily ensconced in my office, and had a very much better day than yesterday. Topped off by an out-of-the-blue offer of freelance work, plus I got lots of my own work done today too. Much better all round. This evening, munching on a Quorn stir fry having returned from Sainsbury's, Lorraine and I watched the final episode of Wolf Hall. What a fantastic television that was.

Lorraine working at home all day. I find I can work happily with her working at the next desk. At lunchtime a walk to Maplins, which is bizarrely one of Lorraine's favourite shops. Then Arkwrights to buy some lunch before getting back to work.   To the gym for the third day in a row. Sunny in the Old Church Hall, but walking into town was to walk into some quite thick fog rolling in from the sea. Made me think of that movie, The Fog where long dead pirates emerge from the fog to revenge themselves on a costal town. Lorraine out teaching governors tonight, and I ventured out again to meet Anton in the Batty. A night on the tiles and of much discussion. Drawn to the Twin Peaksy ambience of the Northern Lights again, which had a musicians of sorts upstairs, we went upstairs to see them, one guy singing who was not so hot. Downstairs to some flavoured vodka. Anton mentioning at the end of the night that he had not eaten all day.  I saw him into a taxi and walked home, skilful...

Back up to North Acton. Foggy morning and dreaming on the train about English Idylls, and having a room to write in that overlooked the misty spire I glimpsed. Work a vile headless chicken environment, full of panic and stress. Kept myself level headed until just before I left. Disappointing myself. Journey home all the never ending Monte Cristo audiobook. Lorraine had worked at home today, and gone for a cycle ride with Rosie in the evening, who had just returned from a Greek holiday. Had a cheery candle-lit supper with them and Beth and soon felt human again.

Foggy Working hard this morning on various ailment copy. The man cold has now settled onto my chest and I am intermittently feverish. Once this was done I went off into Brighton to buy a few pressies for Anton, as it was his brithday. Also to sort out my Blackberry, which is not only frozen, but now officially dead. After some to-ing and fro-ing they have agreed to courier the part of the phone that does not work any more tomorrow. Every piece of technology I own is failing piece by piece. Went into a record shop and sore a vinyl single called Virgo Four Perfection, which seemed an ideal purchase for Anton. However when I got it home, the title had changed to Virgo Four Resurrection, which isn't the same thing at all. I also went into a charity shop and got some more vinyl for him. It staffed by a pair of least convincing angular male to female transgender ladies I have ever seen, both rather tightly lipped and unsmiling until you start to chat. A nice afternoon, though so...

Fog on the brain After working through the to do list, I took myself for a walk down by the sea, where it was mysteriously foggy. Perfect conditions, in fact, to rage at your camera as its battery gives out after two shots. A plethora of deathless photos untaken. Then to the magic cafe for coffee and a tinker with poems. Brain foggy today too, however, so not to much avail. Tried to stay up late tonight to watch a movie called 24 Days Later featuring turbo-zombies (one of its innovations were that zombies could move very fast). Scary and it was late so I went to bed halfway through. Below the burnt down old West Pier, emerging from the fog like a kraken.

Pea soup and venison stew Fog update - according to the BA website it looks like my flight to Japan will be happening tomorrow. My flight is BA0005. I have reserved my window seat in advance and it has bags of legroom. For it is a fact that if I stare anxiously out of the window, wringing my hands and muttering prayers under my breath, this is the main contributor to the safety of all on board. Not that they thank you for it, especially the ones sitting next to you. I have Lord of the Rings on my iPod and loads of drugs so all should be well. Typically, this is the most protracted amount of fog I have ever experienced. Brings to mind London's old pea soupers in which it was impossible to see a pickpocket held in front of your face. Those were the early industrial days where smoking chimneys turned London's fog into a dense noxious smog. This inspired Monet in his painting of the Houses of Parliament, not to mention Jack the Ripper. Popped up the road to give young Klaudia and ...

Work is almost at an end Off to the quack this morning to score drugs for my plane journey. I am taking no chances. Not that there seems much prospect of flying at the moment. Southern England is covered in dense fog. Above fog in the graveyard near my work. Why am I always flying when I hate it? But being in Japan is going to be excellent so it is worth paying the terrible ferryman to get there. Greeted when finally at work by the Gnome back from having a cold saying that we'd won the pitch I travelled up to Bradford for. Was fairly amazed at this. But it does mean that for a short stretch me and the Gnome are officially big and clever. Later, writing my pitch blog for work, I had to stop myself drifting into an overblown description of fog as a homage to Dickens's Bleak House . Lots of pesky work to clear up this morning then off to the Stonemason's with the Gnome where we joined a Christmas luncheon. The French Bloke was there and we fell to the task of celebrating wit...