under another sun

Strange meeting Difficult to progress my own projects this week. And I find today that I may have to speak to the local radio as a spokesman on sustainability for On Track early next week. This may or may not happen, of course, but I'll have to dust off some bon mots just in case. Also interesting chats with Simon today, who I met recently through Mike, the cat with the hat. A nice guy. I'm making lots of Brighton connections these days, and I'm putting down deeper roots in this city. Late afternoon walk for a couple of hours today, talking to Mum on my mobile and plunging my arm in seagull guano. Walked down to where the white cliffs start the other side of Brighton Marina, got involved in the chalky rockpools. Sitting quietly I saw what appeared to be a strange meeting between a crab, three shrimps, and a blenny. Also noticed how the big nodules of flint are wearing out of the chalk. It was only when I went to the Booth museum that I learned where flint comes from. Walki...

Moths, beggars kneecaps and pies Thank God, managed to sleep for hours, despite being woken up by the sound of a lady being noisily pleasured in the twitten at 3:30 am and a neighbour shouting down "People live here!" Bizarre and dreamlike. Up early to finish off the first draft of my Church n' Charity stuff and after an intense couple of hours was finished. Escaped off into the outside world and headed to the Booth Museum. Lurked about looking at hundreds of stuffed birds, stuffed bears and dead moths and bits of flint. Made lots of notes and generally fed my imagination with a large tablespoon. For example I learned that flint contains lots of echinocorys, which are fossils of sea urchins. There are many other names and folk legends attached to them, one is that they are called thunderstones, and they are used to ward off lightning. They are also called shepherds knees, beggars kneecaps, and policemen's helmets. On the way home the idea of a Cornish pasty formed in...

Flint and moth An excellent day. Did some business-type stuff this morning, then talked to Mum at some length about a wheeze we are working on together which mainly involves her doing some painting while I spin idly around in my chair. Also during the morning I sent the pictures of the flint scraper to the local museum, and was invited round to show them, as the Booth Museum is only a short walk away from where I live. Mad place, featuring the collection of one Edward Thomas Booth, whose blatant ambition was to slaughter and stuff every last species of British Bird. Fine examples, as the museum would have it, of The Victorian Art of Taxidermy . A quirky and fascinating place, and well worth a visit. So I walked past all the baleful cases of dead birds, to have a conversation with a bearded man called Jeremy. Stifling a yabadabadoo! I held out my stone age scraper. Sadly, after peering keenly at this artifact with his magnifier, he said it was a piece of flint. Although perfectly shape...