Two poached eggs on toast and mug of tea.
Wave Linda off to work, switch the T.V. news off and Goon Show on whilst preparing for shave and shower.
Decide the tinnitus & deafness are to much this morning and dig out large brass syringe:
Notice dull pain in the right-side of my scalp as I'm drying my hair.
Pack 4 BeHeld C.D.s for postage. Phone rings.
I'm summoned to the Manor House to 'sort the bloody tele-box out, no bloody channels old chap'. I agree to call after my visit to the Post Office.
Quick cup of coffee while I try to sort out most recent update of Hipstamatic (problems with bulk delete function).
Queue of 6 in the Post Office. C.D.s consigned to the tender mercies of the GPO.
To the Manor House. Re-tune T.V. to satisfaction of Sir W. who offers me a stone mermaid bird-bath:
Arrange to collect later in the day.
Back home, coffee, prep & publish Hooting Yard pod-cast.
Visit elderly neighbour who's recently returned from hospital after recovering from a nasty chest infection.
Spend next 3 hours scraping accumulated limescale and soap scum from her bathroom/lavatory, vacuum through her entire flat then have a bit of a natter over tea & biscuits.
Back home to sketch ideas for an engine mounting for the ongoing CycleMotor Project (shudder). Listen to Goon Show and Leonard Barrass. Cycle to motorbike shop to buy a chain-cracker capable of splitting the CycleMotor drive chain. They don't have one but will have one in stock on Saturday (£20). Back home, do load of washing. Write first two verses of a new song:
I could see the destination
Off on the horizon
Full ahead plain sailing
The wake behind me trailing
But the wind changed and
Blew me of course (x2)
The storm rose up and shattered
Everything that mattered
On these rocks I'm stranded
Forlorn and empty-handed
But the wind changed and
Blew me of course (x2)
Blocked on third verse that involves either driftwood, bleached bones or shipping forecast reference.
Descend to the shed and remove engine from the CycleMotor with the intention of re-positioning the engine in the frame. Turns out this is a mistake. Abandon project and return to the flat for a cup of coffee and more Goon Show.
Mystic Roger calls round. We 'jam' the new song and discuss song choice for visit to RAFA club next Tuesday.
Linda comes home from work and we all drink tea and eat hot-cross buns.
Wave Mystic Rog off then drive Linda to the pub for her Thursday drinking session with her girly pals.
Back to Manor House to collect mermaid bird-bath. Print some business emails out for Sir W. refuse at least 4 offers of glasses of wine (a really good red), load mermaid into boot of car, return home. Prep and light the fire, hang washing on clothes airer and get comfortable for Hooting Yard on the Air.
Familiar strains of the Caucasian Lullaby fade into horrific coughing and spluttering, 'Oh God' intones the despairing voice of Mr. Key, Caucasian Lullaby cuts back in and plays for a distressingly long time. I begin to worry that I might actually have heard Mr. Key's last gasp. Caucasian Lullaby fades again and Mr. Key resumes the entertainment that I know and love as Hooting Yard on the Air.
Write email to congratulate Mr. Key on best start (in hindsight) to Hooting Yard on the Air ever.
Linda returns from pub, turns on T.V. to watch Emmerdale and Corrie. Remove myself to back-room 'studio' to work on secret recording project that involves me attempting to imitate a choir of infants.
Eat evening meal (spag-bol) then watch T.V. programme on Art-Nouveau.
Decide to write blog post detailing everything that happened to me today.
I'm now going to wash-up, wake Linda (asleep on settee) and go to bed.
I'll try to do something interesting tomorrow.
1 comments:
Missed my Daily Spaceman for a couple of days and missed all the action it seems...
Thanks for the heads-up about Sex and Sensibility: The Allure of Art Nouveau. I keep on buying the RadioTimes and then throwing it in the bin unopened a week later - I'm not watching hardly any TV nowadays and I forget to check to see if there is actually anything on I'd enjoy. Watched the show on iPlayer and should also have tonight's repeated TV broadcast recorded. Why did they give the show such a stupid inappropriate title? Maybe next episode's feature on Aubrey Beardsley will be more sex-full!
Sorry to hear you're a Tinnitus sufferer. I used to work with the deaf and hard of hearing and know how distressing it can be. A friend of mine sometimes finds himself woken by bird song. Half asleep, he goes to the window to draw the curtains only to find it's still pitch black outside. Checking the clock, it's only 2am, and the sound of birds is the Tinnitus! Other sufferers hear very different sounds: steady droning, whistling, banging, you name it.
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