under another sun

Curiously got out of the right side of the bed this morning, and have officially have had a word with myself about being a walking one-man gloomfest. So, cheerily, off to the Twitten where the new plumber, much to my stunned surprise, was actually early and Gary had let him in. After conversations about showers, returned home for a bit, spoke to Anton, before hoofing off to the quack to restock with antibiotics. A long wait due to a computer problem, but listening to Seasons in the Sun , a history book subtitled T he Battle for Britain 1974-79 by Dominic Sandbrook. Particularly enjoyable for me as I was a teenager at this time and it mixes in lots of cultural and social stuff to give the political struggle context. An absorbing, if right-leaning, interpretation of the times. Out again this afternoon to meet Sophie, as she was somewhat delayed I found myself in Starbucks again drinking a cup of earl grey tea, where I wrote some new words for a song which I will send to Matt about au...

Rolling up the trouserlegs Up at seven, and a spot of admin and payment chasing, and writing for a few hours before Toby surfaced, enticed by a cup of tea. As Toby groggily regrouped, I went off for a haircut, where I mentioned that my brother was over from Canada. The hairdresser quizzed me as to whether he had come over for the Pride parade in Brighton this weekend. Saying that he hadn't, made me feel curiously homophobic. So I had to add perhaps over-eagerly that I for one would certianly be enjoying the parade, which wasn't quite right either. A few nasty moments this morning having discovered I no longer had my manbag and, much more importantly, my camera. I called Zizzi and after describing its ink-stains, was told they had it. Returned home fully manbagged again, Toby showed me his excellent Argentinian photos. Some beautiful images. Then I went for a massage, which was free - having introduced Lorraine to my back crackers. I had a huge knot in my shoulders apparently,...