Saturday in Battersday

A trip to Battersea Park Road.
Up seven flights of stairs each landing stinking of pee….
Into a little flat to look at some material for Sunday’s International Womens day gig.
It’s not the colour I ordered but I’m sure my lovely Shakeel will do the trick.
Down in the lift.

Parking meter for two hours and off to my favourite shop in the Kings Road to buy BB a birthday present for Monday.
Then I took breakfast in a French emporium. Apple and ginger juice, cold from the fridge.
A sundae glass of yoghurt, granola and fruit.
Then a humungus bowl of coffee. I ordered large thinking it would be in a cup. When the bowl came I nearly died. I could only finish half of it but it was sublime.
Le Petit Quotidian I think is its name.
Back to the flat to work Then BB came and we drove to Gipsy Hlill to visit an art gallery and a studio where she may lay down her music.
Then back for a curry in Battersea Square.
She’s gone off clubbing in Shoreditch and I’m preparing to write. The heating is on to warm up my body.
Jim is acting in Middlesborough, my crocuses are up in the window boxes on the balcony. I need to get back to the cottage to see all my spring flowers in the garden.
I’ve booked three days in Rome for my 60th, the river is flowing, the moon is half a crescent with Venus keeping it company. All is just about right with the world.
Sleep well tonight.