Blogging left-handed

So. On a train. In the rain. (Storm Dennis). 7 year-old wedged into my ribcage. I can hardly type. Does slowing down lead to more considered, better prose? I doubt it.

We are flying (well, training) into the teeth of Dennis. Unwise, perhaps, but there's a futon at stake. Oh, and a holiday. This time last year we were up on Haddon Hill in blazing sunshine. The forecast doesn't support any such trips this half term. Stay in and drink tea, it says.

About to hit one of the most astonishing bits of railway track anywhere in the world. For m Exeter the Victorians (I assume) built the line to Teignmouth on the sea wall. Blood red cliffs on one side, the waves on the other. Thankfully Dennis is blowing off the Atlantic. If the wind was coming from France we'd be in la merde. Or la mer. Either way...

Did I mention that The Great Western Hotel at Exeter St David's has stopped serving Stilton garlic bread? Damm shame. Still good beer, mind. Even in this weather Exeter as an alternative to London is very attractive. Devon is beautiful.

Dennis will have blown himself out tomorrow. Perhaps we'll make it down to Brixham to smell the sea.

Dawn In Hackney*

It is a crisp, clear morning. You can’t quite sea the Eastern horizon and the sunrise from our house, as we face North-South and the new flats all down the street are too tall. When we moved here, if you stood on the toilet and poked your head out of the top bathroom window you could see the Gerkin. So long as you remembered to put the seat down first, otherwise you’d end up with a wet foot. No longer. The new flats block the view.

Still, looking at the back you can see the rising sun reflecting off the wall of the gasworks. Actually, they aren’t gasworks anymore. Town gas is long gone. Coal no longer makes it way up the canal from Limehouse, to be coked and sent back down, presumably bound for homes that still burnt things, but wanted a smokeless fuel.

No more coke. It’s bad for you.

But for a moment, Hackney will still and silent. I’d been standing on the balcony last night, listening to the sirens in the distance. I like the sound of sirens. It means life. Something is happening out there, even if I’m just standing on a balcony, hanging school jumpers on an airer. Still I enjoyed this peaceful dawn, when I was the only person in the house awake (for a little while) and all the washing for the week has been done, and it’s time for the first cup of tea of the day.

There isn’t a cloud in the sky today. Not one.

* With apologies to Dawn from Hackney

Into the Sea

The combination of wine, Suede and having only just put the chips in the oven is a potent one. I have at least 10 minutes spare to write something.

Suede always makes me want to write. I think it's because it the band meant something to at least 3 of my closest friends at different times in my life, even if I was more into Pulp. (As an aside, the newish album, The Blue Hour, is excellent). The band certainly featured in a piece written by J-P, and J-P was a far better writer than me, something of an insipiration. No, more than that. Definitely an inspiration. Quite a lot of the time I write because J-P wrote, brilliantly.

But what to write? I can't just dwell on Britpop. Coming Up was released 24 years ago. We can all play the game. 26 years before coming up was ... Exile on Main Street. Though personally I'm not a particular fan of Exile. Hearsay, I know. Anyway, Super Fly was released in 1972 and Super Fly is the film soundtrack. Nothing else comes close.

Brexit is irreleavnt. I realise I am far more excited about the 6 Nations starting than Brexit. This is not to suggest that Brexit isn't important, or shit, but 31st Jan is irrelevant in the grand scheme. It's the slow puncture, not the crash, the matters. And England play in Paris tomorrow. Bread and circuses. But it's a good circus. And as a Civil Servant, I'm not going to run out of bread any time soon.

Such cynisim. Can I come up with something uplifting? Brett Anderson is crooning about a picnic on a motorway, which rather sums things up really. No, it's not that hopeless. The boys are wonderful. K has painted over all the horrible marks on the paintwork on the groundfloor and as such the house looks immeasurably better. We are off to Devon in a couple of weeks. It will be fun.

But where is the connection with the universal? Well, I might have some news in that direction but nothing is confirmed yet, so I'll hold fire for now...