under another sun

Up early, and working with Keith. Much better morning today, and we got our act together well enough to have everything ready for lunch.  Had a chat with Mason at lunchtime, whose birthday it is today. They were off to the Waggon to celebrate.  Lorraine home today, and so she and Sam dealt with the drains man who came with his poo poker to probe at one of the drains the gutter runs into which had become partially blocked by a black plastic bag that had been left under the decking nearby. Not a complicated job apparently. All well.  Back to work: Keith camping this afternoon, and so I flew solo on the transatlantic presentation. Felt unusually nervous about my bit, and had to sit through an hour of other people presentations before mine. However I got through it unscathed, and they seemed fairly positive after I had presented. Nothing to do then, but wait for feedback, which I knew wouldn't come to the evening as the US are behind us in time. Felt drained and stressed afte...

Anxious dreams, and a bad night's sleep. I failed to press on with the book, as I find sitting among clutter not conducive to concentration. Unpacked some boxes and in one I found a small collection of old magazines I had been published in, plus a couple of pamphlets purchased by post from the devastating Richard Fleming before I'd even met him. Otherwise a day short on glamour, and a certain degree of resentful cringing under The Cloud of Things That Must Be Done. For example there was the hour or so taken up with a nice man from DynoRod who deployed a variety of drain unblocking techniques, including a long electrically powered cable which he sent snaking down into the drain. But he went away foxed, and promising a two man team tomorrow. More successfully, another man came to fix my tumble dryer which tripped all the switches when you turned it on, and so has not been used in the last two years. The man had the back off and found a wire from a bra had worked its way into ...

Just noticed that this is the 3,002nd post on this blog. Writing it has become part of life - and curiously good for my sanity. Best news of the day was that I got an email from Janet saying Ken is safely returned home, which is excellent. A a slightly trying (Mercury retrograde?) element to the rest of the day, which was earmarked for freelance work, but the day-long unavailability of my client to talk through the new brief meant I could not finish the job. I spoke to Seana, my glamorous accountant, asking her to chase the tax office once again. She emailed me saying the money owed me should now be on its way, and was delayed because they were waiting for one of my payments to clear. I said I'd actually paid this in at the end of December, i.e. several weeks  early . This earliness seems to have created the problem. Unbelievable. On a better note, had a poem Cicada accepted for The Frogmore Papers , a poetry magazine based in Lewes, a welcome acceptance after some recent...

A man called Steve came round first thing to unblock a drain, with a good deal of vigorous and splashy plunging, and sharing of his opinions about the mysterious nature of drains. I've had more dealings with plumbers and drain people in my last few Brighton years, than I have had in the rest of my life. There is something symbolic about Brighton's dodgy labyrinth. 'It's like a doing a jigsaw,' Steve the drains said ruefully. And often with poos , I thought, feeling rather sorry for him. After the excitement of scientifically filling sinks, flushing loos and so on, I got back to working on my business book, still grappling with the fundamental link between fashion and marketing, interrupted only by Calliope and Brian, who have taken to playfully chasing each other in a thundering way around the house or crowding around my desk like Hitchcock's birds. A fasting day, I met Lorraine in Sainsbury's this evening on the way back from work. She'd fallen over...

Scatology It says something about the execrable nature of my day that light relief was supplied by today's drain man, who arrived with a snakey poo camera and monitor. Apparently, he explained, some of the newer set-ups allow people to record the camera's drain adventures on DVDs. I imagined watching it like a poo movie from the gold sofa later, 'while listening to chamber music' as the drain man said. I almost fell into the drain after we'd removed the manhole cover at which the drain man chortled heartily. Shortly after he almost fell in too. Oh how we laughed, until it was time for him to attend to another poo errand, and me to attend to my poo work. My work today (about various types of arthritis) was so vile I felt after five or six hours like sobbing with frustration. I am doing a job I should never have agreed to, but my sense of responsibility prevents me from simply pulling the ripcord. Eventually I could do no more, and went instead to the gym which after ...

Yuck Stressed. Up at seven and soon at work on the website, and all going well. Then an hour's interlude at eleven as the drain clearance man came. Thank God he was able to clear the drain, but only after some protracted work, and the opening of a manhole cover which revealed a disgusting reservoir of fetid corruption just feet away from my kitchen. Thankfully now all drained away. But the visit necessitated me running about filling baths with water and lifting flagstones, not to mention having conversations about drains. I find I am going to have a man come in to send a camera down into the drain to see what the long term trouble is. Perhaps he will spot the money I have thrown down there. Or my career. For shortly after noon, was called by a new colleague at my old agency. They failed to send me all the information on Friday but sent it instead this afternoon. After looking at until it was evening, I realise it needs a specialist medical writer, which I am not. This puts me in a ...