10September1997

10 September 1997
My dear folks,

It’s the loveliest kind of afternoon. In a perfect world, I’d have the kind of olive skin that would allow me to bask out on the patio. Since it’s an imperfect world I am sitting in the study instead, listening to Adiemus belting out their Songs of Sanctuary. “New Age chanting” is what the nice man in the HMV record shop called it & I guess it’s not a bad description – a curious mix of rhythmic chants with a Carl Orff flavour to them. I’m still making up my mind exactly how I feel about them. Old Mave, lying on the carpet beside me, shows no inclination one way or the other. He’s not fussed about the choice of music, Mave isn’t, as long as he’s warm & fed.

HMV stock a useful collection of cut-price deals & I generally drop in when I’m in the vicinity. I was led there from John Lewis where I went to look for a couple of sew-on logos to hide the ink stains, which have ruined the appearance of two of my best shirts. That’s the price of leaving a ball-pen clipped into a shirt pocket. John Lewis was recommended to me by an Asian tailor who works in the local dry cleaner & he was dead right. The store had a large selection from which I chose 4 of the most likely. With a bit of careful needlework I think I can redeem both garments.

First stop of the day though was the dentist for the fitting of the gold inlay in the tooth he drilled out last week. This time the molar wasn’t numb & I staggered out 30 mins later feeling a little the worse for wear. The dentist wasn’t entirely to blame. The BBC “working supper” I attended last night finished up in the bar where I caught up on gossip with a few of the lads. I turned down the last two rounds but I might have been wiser to start declining a wee bit earlier. Anyhow, I’m fine now.

I had a word with Micaela in Witbank last night & gathered that Brendan had secured a big contract with the mine at last & was absolutely delighted. He wasn’t there at the time so I didn’t get details. It did sound like the best kind of news however.

Thank you Jones for your fax today, another Jones gem. I dropped in on the nursery en route home from the dentist & got you thyme plants which I’ll bring down. I’ll find the biscuits at the airport. May I ask you to bring my toilet bag with you to Lisbon; as I recall, I left it in the bathroom. I had an email from Penny last night – to the effect that she has just taken possession of a smashing new computer. She’s now finished her university course & started a job with some group. Robbie emailed me a couple of days back to say that he’d had to have Sam put down; much sadness! Speaking of which, my heart went out to Ulrike; ploughing your cash into a dubious land deal is heart breaking stuff.

I’ve continued to read with fascination accounts of the Diana funeral phenomenon & have kept a couple of thoughtful ones for you to read Jones. Private Eye had the most marvellous collection of before & after snippets from the papers, comparing earlier bile with the later mawkish bullshit as editors & columnists went into tearful mode in one of the fastest U-turns in history. BBC broadcasting life is gradually getting back to normal. I gathered that we “rolled” briefly a couple of nights back on news of the death of ex President Mobutu in Morocco. I won’t add RIP. The bastard robbed his country blind. At least he got his comeuppance. I suspect the UN is rapidly coming to the conclusion that Kabila is little improvement. But I’m not on about politics today. Will go & water the plants & get in some bread to last me the next two days. Saturday p.m. I’m off to Lisbon where I’ll meet Jones & wait for the arrival of her sister in law on Monday before driving down to the Quinta.

Blessings
T