Since last I wrote
Oh, busy. Places to go, things to do, people to see. But in a good way. Briefly, then:
Thursday was the launch of Peter Mortimer's new book, Mortimer at Large, a collection of his weekly column for the local paper. The columns are fun, a fine blend of local references, serious commentary and off-the-wall humour - but when Peter reads them they are absolutely hilarious.
On Friday we drove down to London, arriving at my brother's in time for an early tea before accompanying the band to the pub where they were booked for the evening. It was a residency-type gig, and they played three forty minute sets. Later I commented that they'd played a lot of things I hadn't heard before. "Yes," said my brother, "I think we played pretty well everything we know." They've been asked to play there again, so they'll have to learn some new stuff...
Saturday was the wedding anniversary party, the reason for our trip; tea and cake in the afternoon, buffet supper and whatever you brought to drink in the evening, music and dancing and friends to talk to. Long ago I was at school with the person whose party it was, and there were other school friends there, some of whom I'd expected to see and some complete surprises, some I'm in touch with and some I hadn't seen - oh, probably since the wedding whose 30th anniversary we were celebrating. I was amused at the expression "social dancing" to describe the sort of dance where everyone is called to join in - does this mean that what Chingford Morris were doing was antisocial dancing?
Sunday we met![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
helenraven at the Wellcome Trust, because I wanted to see the winning images from the Wellcome Image Awards, which turned out to be a very small exhibition, but with some beautiful images: the E. coli was jewels on black velvet, the vitamin C crystals a collectors box of treasures from the seaside, shells and golden weed and shooting stars. We plundered the bookshop, patronised the café and then headed round the corner to Drummond Street and the Sunday buffet at Diwana Bhel Poori - which was even better than I remembered it.
Driving north, we stopped for lunch in Retford, because that was where we were, with no particular plan and no great hopes, but came upon Deli & Dine, a light and airy café-cum-delicatessen, where we sat at the window table and watched the ducks in the lane outside. I had bread and cheese,durham_rambler had bread and ham; we were consulted about our preferences, and then served a plate of good things and an explanation of what each one was. Retford also offered an independent bookshop, where we talked about crime fiction with the staff (Stephen Booth is a local author). And home: a friend had offered to give us dinner if durham_rambler would tune her television for her, so we had a pleasant evening in front of the box.
Since when it's all been about catching up. I feel as if I'm making progress, but no doubt it's an illusion, and I'm simply overlooking something urgent.
Thursday was the launch of Peter Mortimer's new book, Mortimer at Large, a collection of his weekly column for the local paper. The columns are fun, a fine blend of local references, serious commentary and off-the-wall humour - but when Peter reads them they are absolutely hilarious.
On Friday we drove down to London, arriving at my brother's in time for an early tea before accompanying the band to the pub where they were booked for the evening. It was a residency-type gig, and they played three forty minute sets. Later I commented that they'd played a lot of things I hadn't heard before. "Yes," said my brother, "I think we played pretty well everything we know." They've been asked to play there again, so they'll have to learn some new stuff...Saturday was the wedding anniversary party, the reason for our trip; tea and cake in the afternoon, buffet supper and whatever you brought to drink in the evening, music and dancing and friends to talk to. Long ago I was at school with the person whose party it was, and there were other school friends there, some of whom I'd expected to see and some complete surprises, some I'm in touch with and some I hadn't seen - oh, probably since the wedding whose 30th anniversary we were celebrating. I was amused at the expression "social dancing" to describe the sort of dance where everyone is called to join in - does this mean that what Chingford Morris were doing was antisocial dancing?
Sunday we met
helenraven at the Wellcome Trust, because I wanted to see the winning images from the Wellcome Image Awards, which turned out to be a very small exhibition, but with some beautiful images: the E. coli was jewels on black velvet, the vitamin C crystals a collectors box of treasures from the seaside, shells and golden weed and shooting stars. We plundered the bookshop, patronised the café and then headed round the corner to Drummond Street and the Sunday buffet at Diwana Bhel Poori - which was even better than I remembered it.Driving north, we stopped for lunch in Retford, because that was where we were, with no particular plan and no great hopes, but came upon Deli & Dine, a light and airy café-cum-delicatessen, where we sat at the window table and watched the ducks in the lane outside. I had bread and cheese,
durham_rambler had bread and ham; we were consulted about our preferences, and then served a plate of good things and an explanation of what each one was. Retford also offered an independent bookshop, where we talked about crime fiction with the staff (Stephen Booth is a local author). And home: a friend had offered to give us dinner if durham_rambler would tune her television for her, so we had a pleasant evening in front of the box.Since when it's all been about catching up. I feel as if I'm making progress, but no doubt it's an illusion, and I'm simply overlooking something urgent.