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[johnny9fingers]

On Saturday the Mother 'phoned. My godfather, Geoffrey, died on Friday.

I'd been meaning to try to arrange a visit to see G. and John to display young Henry, but I didn't get around to it. Not going to happen now, is it.

Henry is teething, and has the occasional loud bouts of discomfort.

This morning, as soon as our nanny arrived, I had to take Mother's neighhbour to the Royal Marsden for some experimental treatment for her cancer.

It all really could do with being a little better at the moment. Tomorrow morning I have an interview for a post as a peripatetic music tutor in Bromley (which is a borough of London). Too much going on to be sensible about the outside world.

Go well, do good things. Consider your position carefully, and do nothing mean of spirit, or disfiguring of soul. We have too short a time to be ugly in attitude, behaviour, or motivation. The craic and playing to the gallery are understood by all, but....

Comments

[johnny9fingers.livejournal.com]

G. was a good sort. Only man I've ever known to say "Fuck" out loud at a dinner table and make my mother laugh.

How's the new life? Big steps sometimes have a sort of badly-cranked-zoetrope quality to them, or have in my remembrance, anyway.

[towith.livejournal.com]

I find that the main change is in how people outside of the relationship view us. People seem to be oddly put at ease by the fact that I'd enter willingly into an ancient institution.