under another sun

Up early this morning. Tom arrived this morning, a burst of cheeriness first thing. He is down to see Pat and Maureen. I had to make my excuses, however and zoom off with Brian to walk in Friston Forest, with Marley the dog sprinting about with a stick in her mouth most of the time. Another gorgeous day, walking through the autumnal forest and its carpet of yellow beech leaves. Excellent and rather profound chat with Brian. While we were walking along he found his black case for his earphones, lost two weeks ago. Amazing he could see them on the forest floor. He said I was his good luck charm. Then we drove briefly to East Dean, where there was a small and very middle class market. He bought some venison. I almost bought some venison sausages as the prices didn't look too dear (arf). Then we popped back to see Yvonne, who had her grandson Sebastian with her. Last time I saw him (last Christmas I think) he was a baby, but now he is a little boy. I feel I understand babies a bit bett...

Up and breakfasting when Tom arrived. Then L off to work and I sat down and wrote for five hours, reaching my ambitious daily target for Nothing compares to you quite easily today. Then to the gym, Sainsburys and then back again to continue assessing the marketing project and how to repurpose it for Kindle. I made meatballs this evening, chatted to Tom who had gone to the gym, and then had our dinner outside when Lorraine got home, even playing a game of scrabble as the sun went down. I spoke to Sophie having been a poor friend to her in recent months. She was touchingly good about it though, and said she had loads of support from family and so on. I will properly chat to her next week. Turns out today is the day before the anniversary of Andros' death, although I had not consciously realised this. Notes with Richard and Jane, who sadly we will miss when we go to Guernsey as they will be in Belgium. The idea of going to Guernsey really exciting. We watched the second o...

Really cold day for the time of year. I sat monastically working in my study with the cats pushing on with Nothing Compares To You . I did however feel very happy about yesterday's event. I found it consoling, and seems to be helping in getting a bit of closure. Sue and Madeline had done a great job. Chatted with Sonia a little, arranged to meet Helen next week. Otherwise little to report. Had a short walk after work through Blakers Park and when Lorraine got home from work, I collected a curry, and we spent the night chatting with Tom. After, Lorraine and I watched a few episodes of Mum , a lovely, minutely-observed and somewhat toe-curling comedy.

Up and slaving like a dawg to get the document ready for the new agency on time. Managed it, and had  a couple of hours to spare in the afternoon. Went to the gym, but felt weirdly underpowered and sweaty, so simply stopped after twenty minutes and walked home again feeling a bit wussy.  Then started work on the French stuff.   At the end of the day, rather pleased that I can stop working for a couple of days, and really cheery that I have had work which is earmarking doubloons for the Kenny coffers. Very tired this evening. Finished reading The Dunwich Horror by H.P. Lovecraft. Went out and scored a small curry when Lorraine came home to a deep discussion with Maureen about the new wood burner she had installed today. Photos had already arrived. Tom arrived this evening to stay. Chatted to him, but both Lorraine and I in a bit of a zombie state.

As forewarned the work that was supposed to start today did not. However I pressed on with the horror story. Then went to the gym in the afternoon. Listened to my final and rather disturbing Robert Aickman story, Into the Wood, about a sanatorium for insomniacs set in the Swedish forest. I have now read four volumes of his short stories. I admire his writing a great deal. Lorraine and Beth off to Basingstoke to see Glenice. Big day as Beth drove a hire car with them both in it back and forth. I had the evening to myself, and started watching Chelsea versus Manchester United. After United scored two goals, I stopped watching. The current Chelsea manager, Sarri, is wedded to a system dubbed Sarri ball, and he has a very clear way he wants his team to play. This means he is playing Chelsea's best players out of their natural positions, and they hate him for it. He needs to go. Weirdly I received no text from Anton. Recoiling from the horror of seeing Chelsea being thrashed, I r...

Woke up with my head buzzing with ideas, as Calliope and Brian walked on me. They are no respecters of hangovers. Fed the wretched weasels at about eight thirty and then made tea and crept back into bed. Cheery and optimistic today. I am usually dubious about January, and use the turn of the year to brood on my own shortcomings. This year I am simply not going to do that nonsense. Lorraine and I discussing in bed the iron discipline that we will employ to make a success of this year. I feel the need to heft myself up by my bootlaces. I am not fit, I am overweight (as ever at this time of year) and need to generate cash, and push on with my projects. Today, however, was about gently starting the year. Drank no booze today, for which my liver and kidneys are profoundly grateful. Lorraine cooked a rather marvellous turkey pie, as we were chatting to Mum on FaceTime.  Spoke also to Anton, who had watched all the Indiana Jones movies last night at home with a cold. Lorraine and I th...

Up fairly early, made Lorraine a bacon and egg sandwich and tea and took it to her in bed. But today was all about the Christmas Fayre in Lorraine's school hall, and we drove off reaching there just after noon. We had the bag of Santa gear with us, as I was the Santa in the Grotto. I sat in Lorraine's office working on the end of my new horror short story. Then the time came for me to change into the gear. I had a big swirling Santa cape, another Santa jacket worn back to front underneath it, some rather skinny felt trousers, and two brown boots, a size too small, and a Santa hat. A bit of ho-ho-hoing and Merry Christmasing  about the school while ringing the school bell, before settling into my grotto. By then the felt trousers had already split along the seams in several places, and that my boxers shorts were simply hanging out of the front. Luckily I could deploy the long cloak over my lap to prevent anything appalling reaching the newspapers. Then I spent the next our ...

Shot up to that London today. Met Lynne for coffee and cake in the Paddington agency. She said her little girl was asked her for some waw'ah (water) the other day, like the little Londoner she is. Lynne is taking her back to Fiji in December, I suggested she needed to dunk her into the south seas to wash all that London out of her. Reading glasses exploded off my face on the tube, on the way home. One of the corner screws pinged out never to be seen again, and a lens dropping into my lap. Comedy gold for fellow passengers. But meant I couldn't read for all the journey home, a bit of a pain as I had carted lots of material with me. Lorraine brought me home a pile of children's books. Today I read was from the eighties, and called   Room 13, which was set in Whitby and reminded me of a holiday L and I spent there with Sam and Jade and Beth and John. Ended in the children putting a stake made of Whitby Rock through the heart of a vampire, which was good fun. Tom here th...

Off this morning to Bolney in Lorraine's car for the school inset day. Lorraine and I presented the branding work on the school vision. Strange to be making a work presentation with Lorraine to the school's staff and governors. Enjoyed having a warm up session first, where we all played two games for ten minutes. Got talking to one of the new governors, a retired GP called Tony, who was interesting. I asked him how he avoided being psychically drained by his patient's problems. He said that you had to learn to be a mirror and not a sponge. Lorraine drove me to Hateful Heath station at lunchtime, and I trained back to Brighton, and went around to Janet and Ken's house. Remembering only with a few attempts, the door code. The house mostly empty and the painting I had long admired with a posit with For Peter written on it, and Janet with a heart. Took this back on the bus. A old man asked me if it were a print or an original, I said original. I explained the circumstance...

Scorcher time renewed. Lorraine and I slowly getting organised for holidays, and shutting down business of all kinds for a couple of weeks. I feel a great need to escape at the moment. After looking at my shrinking coffers online, what better thing to do than go shopping. So Lorraine and I went into town where I bought a pair of sneakers to replace my holed ones, a pair of light loafers, some paper to paint on, as I am going to break out my watercolours on holiday as we should have a balcony to sit on and a view. Lorraine looked at various dresses and so on. Nice to be strolling about, although it was very hot. Eventually at around four o'clock we popped into The Bath Arms to get some food, and gulp down some lager shandy, as it was scorching. Home, Lorraine quite sleepy. Tom here tonight, and chatting to him, while obsessively playing the simple but obsession-inducing game Wood Puzzle Lorraine showed me a couple of weeks ago, on my phone.

Another hot and atrociously frog-filled night. Had to get up twice to deal with hopping frogs and a monomaniac Calliope in a ghastly nocturnal struggle. The tiler was ringing on the doorbell at seven thirty, just as Lorraine was leaving, and I had fallen asleep really heavily again. Bleary chats with Alex the tiler, who just as he was getting to work spotted a hairline fracture in the shower tray, so this must be replaced before tiling can begin. A delay, but better than a leaking shower. I enjoyed the hiatus of quiet when it resumed. Worked at my bits of poems, list making and so on, although feeling  bushed all day. A walk in the afternoon, but very hot. Finished listening to Down and Out in London and Paris today by George Orwell. The difference was there were a few clouds in the sky, some quite dark, but no rain. The land is crying out for rain now, and our garden is shrivelling. The Brexit disaster drags on. I've tried not to fill this blog with remoaning. But today two ...