sunday in the smoke

The River Thames is very hight tonight. I am on thr balcony. Jim is reading me the television listings and i can hear the eaters from the nearby restauarant.
This morning walked to the Butcher and Grill in the yellow heat. Battersea felt Andalucian this morning until I talked to the Butcher about Ian Dury aned Kilburn and the Highroads. We discussed The Boss and Glastonbury and the price of hand sliced bacon.
I felt quite at home when he said if I didn’t have enough dosh he would put me on tick. A long time since that kindness and familiarity was in my life. Mrs. K in the corner shop said the same when I had to go back for some money to buy the papers.
We haqd bacon baguettes on the balcony….The title of my next album….the sun still warm behind the shady clouds,
Papers read, a snooze in the red chair that if you get it right is comfortable but if you get it wrong you can end up with paralysis of the lower hip…
All day we wandered in and out of the flat. Jim re-hung the door in the spare room. The door of the shower that is, so that our little German guest wont flood downstairs. I scrubbed the bathroom and then it was time for tea and honeyed toast.
It’s 9.00 now. B has just come back from Margate and Ramsgate, she and Nathan have split. Her girlies have come to her rescue and held her tightly to get over his madness. She has had to endure real loss this time, we’ve all been there.
She’s nut brown from the Margate boat ride and ready to have supper with her dad and me. Fish cakes and sweet potato mash with a big green salad.
Tomorrow I am back to my routine. I haven’t walked properly or meditated or exercised as all my time has beenhelping Bee move out and deal with her broken heart.
The evening feels pink, Glastonbury is blaring out from the telly. I had no idea quite how brilliant Status Quo were, triple bypasses and grand kids and they can still rock the world.
I am in love with Mark Radcliffe and the Fleet Foxes…I miss my cottage and tonight I miss Jackson, not Michael my dog
It’s time for supper. hey ho another June is nearly gone.