under another sun

Pasties for lunch Listening to Philip Pullman on the radio this morning railing against the new requirement for authors visiting schools to be vetted, so as to prove their safety to work with children. "Why should I pay £64 to a government agency to give me a little certificate to say I'm not a paedophile. Children are abused in the home, not in classes of 30 or groups of 200 in the assembly hall with teachers looking on." He has a point. On with the rheumatoid arthritis copy today. Toby packing this morning. Anton popped around at lunchtime to see the Tobster before he went, and we three ate Cornish pasties. Anton had brought with him the version of Skelton Yawngrave he'd printed out in duplex and bound with string. Having started to read it, he got me to sign his "first edition" saying that it would be worth a fortune one day. I certainly hope so. Toby off to the airport, and I returned to the RA work. He called some hours later after his plane was delaye...

Spam face Large coffee then writing. This time a magazine piece about the connection between railways, Brighton and its festival. Sustainability - being green - is my new thang. And I got a joke in it too. After sending off the article, I felt rather restless - as well as jaded after what had been rather an unexpectedly lively Monday evening. Crept off at lunchtime to buy a medium Cornish pastie from a new pastie place around the corner from me. Felt somewhat better after eating this. Later went out for a spot of shopping, wandering about vaguely. Bought myself some dunlop sneakers, which were rather nice in a retro way. In the afternoon talking to Mum who, after discussions today with her oncologists, may now choose to have chemotherapy. Had a blameless night in, sipping mineral waters and watching a little TV about what people ate in the war. Cue presenter saying with disgust "spam!" and making ghastly face eating it. Made me wonder what planet they were from that they'...