a subconscious vocation as a starship captain

Up at nine-ish, and I go on a quest for croissants, finding them at the shop by the Royal Festival Hall. As I walk, I think how nice it is that my foot isn’t hurting.
Home, croissants, then I decide to install Lion on my Macbook. After a false start (I make a partition, download and install, then realise that’s stupid, so I install directly on top of Snow Leopard, which makes more sense) I go over to my father’s to move a television to the storage for him, taking a couple of guitars that I hardly ever play to make space here.
His new TV is so large that even I have to admit it might be a bit large. With the tv and the reclining chair, I wonder if he’s trying to live out a subconscious vocation as a starship captain.
Anyway, load the tv into the car, go round to the store, as I’m lowering the TV onto the trolley, feel my back go in some way. No idea how bad. Still, I had a morning without pain, that’s something. A lot of people don’t even get that.
Pack stuff into the store and go home, where I finish up the installation.
Lion is very cool and modern. I immediately hide all the menu bars, pack all the applications onto different spaces and have them whooshing around when I change from one to another. And then change from one to another for no good reason. I also try an animation experiment in Motion with mixed, but promising, results.
Dinner, more experimenting, the monthly toast and soon bed.

the latter has been turned into … into… a box

I’m woken by the telephone going off in the other room. As I know who it is, I don’t rush to answer as by the time I get there it will be on to the answerphone and a terrible mess will ensue. As it’s too late to return to the dream I was having (I don’t remember what it was about, but as the laws of physics and biology don’t apply, I’m keen to spend time there. Having difficulty with the laws of physics and biology at the moment), We get up and I make bacon and eggs and coffee.

After breakfast, I add to the words I’ve been working on (get Milk out of the way fairly quickly, then get stuck in to Algorithms), when there’s a call from Juan, who’s in the area. We go out to meet him at the South Bank, then wander together, via Trafalgar Square (which is turning into a karaoke version of Las Ramblas, which was Leicester Square’s job, though the latter has been turned into … into… a box, so the painted static people and rubbish bubble-blowers and young people have fled to Trafalgar Square) eventually fetching up at Algerian Coffee, to lay in stocks of caffeine for the next two weeks.

Juan goes off to a Festival, and we return home. I get there first, and finish up Algorithms, then edit the slightly aimless video I’ve shot during the afternoon. Eventually it all gets uploaded.

The new Final Cut is terrific, by the way, speaking as an amateur.

Fish and chips, and then watch the glorious Dean Spanley, which I picked up in a Surbiton charity shop yesterday.

much more reliable

Oversleep again, darn it.
Still, today I have places to go to do stuff. After my daily dose of making unusual vocal noises, I walk up to Waterloo and take the train to Surbiton, which is where my accountant has moved to, in order to deliver my accounts. He’s quite surprised to see me, but taking things in person costs about the same as Special Delivery and is much more reliable.
Go into a couple of charity shops. No interesting jackets, but I do get DVDs of Dean Spanley and The Royal Tenenbaums. Then back to Waterloo.
Home via the post office, where I pick up a passport renewal form, and the surgery where I drop in my repeat prescription for indomethacin.
Home, lunch, lie down, then some more bits and pieces.
After H gets home, I go up to the Posh Shop and get tonight’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast, come home and cook the dinner. As there’s nothing on the TV, I spend the evening doing more words in Motion – tonight I do Tears of a Clown, Carbon Emissions and Bitter Pills. Only ten more to go.

pseudo- or meta-haggling

Up later than I’d like, generally feeling bleary. Some kind of dream or other. Breakfast, then I walk over to East Street to buy vegetables, which I’ve got quite used to now. No longer get overexcited by the price and buy twice as much as I need. Feel that there’s some pseudo- or meta-haggling going on that I’m not really aware of. As long as I get veg, I don’t really mind. Home via the shopping centre.
Nap slightly, as I’m feeling washed out, then dry-stone walling (virtual), then lunch, more work and off to Brixton to do some website work. Decide to go via Herne Hill, which means no change and also a walk through Brockwell Park, which is nice. The view of the City (and the new buildings at the Elephant and London Bridge) is spectacular. Has anyone ever used it in a movie?
Pleasant catch-up – the design is soon to be replaced by something a lot more snazzy, which I’m thankfully not in charge of, though I will do the building and maintainance. Then go home again by the same route. In danger of being mown down by joggers (seriously – very joggy park, this).
Home, dinner, back to the walls.

virtual dry-stone walling

Today I mostly managed to avoid building virtual dry-stone walling by revibrating time-management software, which job it was to tell me that it was very urgent to do the virtual dry-stone walling.
Believe me, it’s a lot more interesting if you imagine what that means than if I tell you.
Finally get back to building those virtual walls, then have dinner, then more walls, then package up and add postage to the MeFiSwap disks, which I leave waiting on the table, to be sent in the morning.
Which is at least something I can tick off my to do list, even if it’s not a very significant thing.
(I do find myself putting things on my to do list that I’m about to do, so that I can have the pleasure of ticking them off immediately, you know, like “1. Have cup of tea; 2. Asses practicality of having biscuit – Ginger nut? Chocolate digestive? 3. Save universe. 4. Eat orange” – that sort of thing.)

edging slowly towards becoming something or other

Do manage to get out of bed and sit, so that’s a start. Or a beginning, perhaps. Spend most of the day finishing off dangling threads (invoices sent, fonts finalised, that sort of thing) and doing singing practise, and somehow managing to avoid the great big task I need to do. As one does.
In the evening to David’s for VACtv (not the official name, but I think it looks rather good). Lots of fun as usual. I do 100 Horses, Tiki and My Bumper Book of Lies. Tiki is edging slowly towards becoming something or other. The vocal version, I mean. The instrumental version is already something or other. I get carried away in the transition to the bridge and it’s all momentarily panicky, but generally find myself less phased by the idiosyncrasies of playing in front of (some) people than I have been of late. I buy tea bags and milk on the way there (as I thought he didn’t have either), but since there are already tea bags and David doesn’t drink cow’s milk I bring them home with me.
Decide to get on the Charing Cross train rather than wait four minutes for the Bank train and spend significantly more than four extra minutes walking home. Not my brightest decision, that.