Spring

Spring is in the air, in the earth, in the rain and IN MY SOUL. Nothing a bit of sunshine and a nrw pair trainers can't do to lift the spirit. Plant those tomatoes, watch them daffodils and crocuses sprout; remeber to keep your garlic in the dark.

Turkish delight

At last, something eastern. Today I joined the ranks of genteel londoners with nothing better to do weekdays and went to see TURKS at the Royal Academy. It seemed to go on forever, and after two hours and ten rooms and jostling for position my brain was fairly addled with peony scrolls and jewel encrustations, all whirling about in precise geometries of astonishing workmanship. Some of it beggared belief that it could be made by human fingers - I can see why people get excited by Ming vases now too. Underlying it all was the glory of erudition, exultation of faith and the malevolent interests of power, all equating to the sort of wealth that I think no amount of American dollars could buy in our modern world. Feeling woefully clumsy and ignorant afterwards, I nonetheless was inspired to whip my compasses out and start trying to mimic some of what I had seen immediately. Fortunately a slice of genteelly-priced carot cake and a pot of Tea soothed my ardour so instead my energies have been directed towards writing this for the eager eyes of you, lucky reader.

I adore central london for all the treasures it offers, and that it enables me to avoid spending any time in East london. It is however, as we all know, an essentially lonely place. How shall I connect with my new homeland? How does one find a community in a new place which doesn't really seem to have one anyway? I think escape is on my mind. The immediate urge is to bugger off somewhere exotic: Budapest, Helsinki, Andalucia... what about Swansea, or Wolverhampton? Perhaps a sleety bicycle tour to Stonehenge? Probably a bit far...

Tuesday

Tuesday, a spledid, magnificent day, wondrous blessed and wholesome - oh, Tuesday, you send me. Though I wish the clouds would part but for a few minutes.

I smell terrible. More specifically, I have to cloying odour of an ashtray about my person, owing to a sleep last night on the floor of a friend who lives in Chiswick. The friend, his girlfriend, his flatmate all smoke, and so did I, and gloried naughtily in it. Yum yum. We watched 'Spaced' and it was ever so funny. I particularly like things that make me laugh. This morning upon wiping the mist from the mirror after a long and vacillating shower I could not help noticing the facial hair was a bit long. Perhaps it is time for a handlebar moustache. And some horn-rimmed glasses. Sadly the nose is small and not comic, but I may yet raise a smile.
Chiswick is a charming corner of London it has to be said. The charity shops take the biscuit. I needed a new tie for wrok, and actually had difficulty to find one that wasn't beautiful. Will be looking spruce now.

I must to work, editing a chapter of a book for another friend who is writing one. I am quite impressed. Not only is she actually writing a book but I enjoy reading it. A little envious too: have we all not considered creating a literary work? Would we all not feel in some way our lives more fulfilled, justified, complete with 400 pages of wit/history/passion/adventure/philosophy (etc) with our name on the spine. No-one has to read it do they? I've had my leaning to writing a bodice-ripper for a while now. Kidnap in the desert, lonely castles, galoping about, shots in teh dark, bronzed thighs and heaving bosoms.

Again I wander off the topic: life in East London. Everyone looks much the same I am relieved to say, the weatehr is awful and I think I may have to start paying coucil tax. There are consolations I expect.