It's been a long old week this one.
All a bit stressful.
Which is bad for me and worse for The Cat's Mother. I've become a rotten sleeper as I've got older, and never was particularly good. Grandma in Cyprus will happily recount tales of my childhood nightmares...and even now I can wake up in the middle of the night sweat dripping from me after a particularly tortuous dream.Wednesday night saw me downstairs at 4.00 am drinking tea whilst trying to settle my nerves. This morning I woke up thinking I'd had a terrific deep sleep, but vaguely remembered The Cat's Mother hadn't, I also remembered her throwing my arm away from her at some stage. Still I knew she'd been a little bit tense before we went to sleep, so assumed it all tied together.
Ah no. It wasn't quite like that evidently. At some stage she says I'd screamed out in pain because of cramp, and then spent the rest of the night tossing, turning, shouting and mumbling. Of that I have no memory whatsoever. But it does explain why I'm falling asleep at my desk today. I'm hoping she may be a bit more friendly, in the form of a Ukrainian truce when I get home this evening.
Friday, 21 February 2014
Tuesday, 18 February 2014
Aide memoir
I'd forgotten just how much I loathe working with New Yorkers. It's been a few years since I've had to, it was an unpleasant experience then, and a bunch that I've been working with makes me remember just how insecure and back stabbing they can be. Anyway, I managed to get a fabulous article published for them and the glory lasted for at least five minutes before they started demanding I contact the magazine and get the article changed. When I explained my hesitancy they demanded I set up a conference call where they would ride in like the US cavalry and put things right. Nightmare. Complete nightmare. I put my foot down, and didn't let them, but did manage to get the piece changed. They'll never get coverage in the magazine again, I'll spend months rebuilding my relationship there and grrrrrrrrrr. Thank heavens I don't have to devote too much of my time to them.
That little fracas caused us to delay a trip to Brighton, but we got there in the end and were pleased to see there wasn't too much devastation. Our place there is an old regency flat which meant that it was almost impossible to warm up as the wind was blowing through the gaps in the window frames and under the door to such an extent the central heating struggled. That's the trouble with a listed building...the option of installing heat saving windows and doors is just not there.
We headed off to see an NTLive broadcast of Coriolanus, which I thought was an interesting counterpoint to Ralph Fiennes film. The Odeon in Brighton is an interesting experience...it reflects the faded glory that is Brighton itself. Entry was by emergency exit because the main doors were locked. The booking office was closed. The person working in the Costa Coffee was also running the Ben and Jerrys. We followed people into the screen at five to seven for a performance due to start at 7.00, only to be chased by the usher who proclaimed that if the cinema wasn't ready we'd have to leave. There were all of half a dozen of us to start with, and a dozen by the time the whole thing got going. Once, they'd finished photocopying, the ushers came round climbing through the rows of seats saying "You don't want one of these programmes do you?". Yes we did. Anyway, thank heavens the performance was fabulous.
Sunday afternoon was spent at King Lear at the National with Simon Russell Beale. It's had marvelous reviews, but I was less than impressed. It isn't a Shakespeare that I've seen before, and the first half was a staggering two hours long. Anyway, there was a lot of shouting, lots of blood and death and I didn't nod off much. Perhaps the sight of a once proud man descend into senility was a little too close to home for comfort.
Just a word of warning, I've signed up for another night ride...London to Brighton. This time for charity, so at some stage I might well post a link to my justgiving page....
That little fracas caused us to delay a trip to Brighton, but we got there in the end and were pleased to see there wasn't too much devastation. Our place there is an old regency flat which meant that it was almost impossible to warm up as the wind was blowing through the gaps in the window frames and under the door to such an extent the central heating struggled. That's the trouble with a listed building...the option of installing heat saving windows and doors is just not there.
We headed off to see an NTLive broadcast of Coriolanus, which I thought was an interesting counterpoint to Ralph Fiennes film. The Odeon in Brighton is an interesting experience...it reflects the faded glory that is Brighton itself. Entry was by emergency exit because the main doors were locked. The booking office was closed. The person working in the Costa Coffee was also running the Ben and Jerrys. We followed people into the screen at five to seven for a performance due to start at 7.00, only to be chased by the usher who proclaimed that if the cinema wasn't ready we'd have to leave. There were all of half a dozen of us to start with, and a dozen by the time the whole thing got going. Once, they'd finished photocopying, the ushers came round climbing through the rows of seats saying "You don't want one of these programmes do you?". Yes we did. Anyway, thank heavens the performance was fabulous.
Sunday afternoon was spent at King Lear at the National with Simon Russell Beale. It's had marvelous reviews, but I was less than impressed. It isn't a Shakespeare that I've seen before, and the first half was a staggering two hours long. Anyway, there was a lot of shouting, lots of blood and death and I didn't nod off much. Perhaps the sight of a once proud man descend into senility was a little too close to home for comfort.
Just a word of warning, I've signed up for another night ride...London to Brighton. This time for charity, so at some stage I might well post a link to my justgiving page....
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