Grey unmoving clouds and a persistent threat of rain.
Talked to my sister for well over an hour on the blower this morning about kids, books, old chums and our forthcoming get together in London during the half term hols. I'm taking Tom and Joe down to London to see the sights and stay over in Milton Keynes where my sister lives during the holiday week.
We sort of had a night out with Chris Wilson and his partner, Pauline. I say sort of because we didn't quite meet up. I say didn't quite meet up because we congregated in a new pub in Whitely Bay called the Firestation. Sadly, the rest of humanity had the same idea and when Debbie and I arrived we could barely squeeze through the front door.
We scanned about for the Wilson's but in they were lost in the sea of faces. We beat the retreat along the road to the Fat Ox (John Kimber's pub of choice whenever he visits the North) but it was hos show and no go. We had a pinyt and then walked back along to try another fruitless sortee into the Firestation. Then we called into the video shop and got some Chinese food and legged it back home for movie and grub. About an hour later the door went and it was the Wilson's. Thus the night was partially saved.
The four of us made last orders at The Station pub at the top of our street. Later on Chris and I got into serious anorak mode about album collections, Scott Walker, Catholicism and Glimpsing.
This morning the Wilson's tripped out before Debbie and I got out of bed, so we took advantage of this and had some leisurely lurvvve action baby !
The day has been spent doing cleaning, filing and learning how to floss my teeth in an attempt to arrest the recession of my gums from their rightful place.
Listening To. . .The Sparks Collection (courtesy of Chris Wilson)
Just Us by Elton Dean
Playtime by National Health
Silesia by Jakko Jakszyk
Choices Under Pressure by Peter Blegvad