under another sun

Work in the morning, then off to get my hair cut at lunchtime, as it was beginning to go weird again. The bald patch just makes the weirdness worse, deforming the expectation of how hair should behave. Nice blokes in the barbers. Found myself talking about Edinburgh lots. Then I bought some dirt cheap sneakers, identical to the pair I last had, and a couple of dirt cheap gym teeshirts manufactured in Bangladesh, with a Slazenger logo on them. Afterwards I wondered what appalling conditions these were made in, to get two teeshirts for £7. Home again, and spoke to Mum. Later I cooked squid, once Lorraine had returned from dancing Charleston. We had squid last night too. Squids are our friends. Below, something fantastic in Brighton.

A slower start this morning. Eventually I slipped off and bought some chewy brown bread, and started breakfast. This was our official bread day. I had weighed myself yesterday and have lost a bit of weight which is good, despite not trying too hard. After brunch Lorraine and I drove off to Waitrose to buy some reassuringly bourgeois and slimming food, including squid. While there, we bumped into Sarah and JD. Spoke to JD, looking perfectly French in a stripy jumper and bright blue trousers, about Macron and the French elections, our elections and about Brexit, while the ladies were discussing other matters. Home and then into the garden, where Lorraine and I worked steadily for a few hours, while the cats charged about. Indoors to find Cactus, next door's ginger tom, had invaded our house while we had the back door open. Our cats utterly useless. It weaselled its way into Beth's room and hid, then bolted for freedom. Then Lorraine did stuff for school, and I caught up with bl...

A hot and lovely day. Up early, and Lorraine and I went off to the gym, where Lorraine swam and I had a properly sweaty workout. Then to a little market where we brought some vegetables and two squids from a man selling locally caught fish. I asked him to clean it for us. After he'd chopped its tentacles off, and pulled the body and a clear plastic like length of cartilage, from the hood (checking inside, he told us, for any other bits such as half digested sprats), he removed the skin in seconds by rubbing it with a plastic scouring pad, saying that he'd seen a man do it that way in Hong Kong and it had saved him hours ever since. We went home with a bag of tentacled goodness. Not a day for lurking indoors, so Lorraine Beth and I caught a bus to Brunswick Square in Hove, where there was a festival with music, and various tents and stalls. Lurked about here for a while, having a drink in the sun, and listening to samba and folk music, and Beth being grossed out by a man's...