Sometimes you have a day that doesn't map out the way you expected it to.
The morning took an age to rev up; I'd been hoping to rove darn sarf to see a friend but realised that I hadn't made the hearty stew I was planning to make for McMum (I'm going to visit her tomorrow as she's broken her arm), and I was also planning to go to the ICA to hear a colleague's talk on Arthur Russell, the king of disco.
But a visit to the ICA website told me that the tickets were too costly for a woman of my meagre means, so I'm going there in my imagination instead, and I'm visiting my pal by phone later on.
Meanwhile, the stew's been bubbling for a while, and Whippersnapper is delighted as he can soak up my body warmth for a little longer. I think he is a snake or a lizard covered in fur and pretending to be a cat, actually.
Club Artyfartle is bowling along; I bought the paper tablecloths for the audience to doodle on (the idea was to exhibit them next time around). The line-up is myself, Katy Carr, Martin Stephenson, Acton Bell and one more who wishes to do it privately, all playing brand new songs. Gina Birch will be showing the banners she has sewn for a film project, and I am hoping to have a poetry reading too.
Martin's going to start a club in Gosforth called Club Tornado and he's asked me to design a poster for it.
He's made a very funny film starring himself, his mate Davey Cowan, assorted people who called round while they were filming it (the electricity man and the postman) and my lovely red BSA Bantam, out in the fresh air for the day. The film is made by Ali Macleod, and you can see it at www.youtube.com/watch?v=7szKudU00f4