under another sun

Among angels Up to London again, went for a wander around at lunchtime, finding myself in the Garage Art Gallery. Despite working 10 minutes away from it in the past, I'd never been into it. This week there was an exhibition by a guy called Sidney Handel who in 2004 and at the age of 81 joined an art class. He was standing in the little gallery, amid the remnants of peanuts and wine of what I assumed to be his first show, and surrounded by colourful pictures. I found this rather heartening. Hurried off to take some photos in the graveyard, and enjoyed being among the Victorian angels again. Watched the documentary about the making of Wings of Desire on the DVD, where Wim Wenders makes the link between his film and Rilke's poems. Something very poetic about the graveyard, with its leaning headstones and ornate statuary. Some of the figures almost look as if they could blink open their eyes, and turn their heads. After work over, I went to the pub with Robbie, The Gnome - and Mar...

Frog and Angel Started writing a new poem on the train in the morning, despite the elbows of the Times reading buffoon next to me. Have this idea about focus groups, where you sit behind two way mirrors and watch people being interviewed. The news full of bird flu and turkeys being slaughtered (they must think it's Christmas every day). The BBC and other establishment organs are radiating calm, so you know something well dodgy is going down. Thank goodness for a letter bomb in London today to take everyone's mind off it. Met a woman called Rachel who I worked with at IBM many years ago, and is now one of the agency's clients. Had a short nostalgic chat with her before doing actual work. Still feeling somewhat frustrated. I did attend a meeting in which I had to give a short presentation. During the course of this I found a frog glove puppet, which I employed to stare and gape at The Gnome across the table as things progressed. Otherwise, there was little of note to report. ...