(No one is reading this, are they. I am just mumbling into the void)
Prog Rock, recumbent, reading, on the sofa again yesterday: Did you know Werner Herzog described the Amazon as 'an overwhelming fornication'?
Prog Rock: This is good on the Earl of Rochester, Em. 'During another bout of insanity he threw himself on a phallic shaped sundial, shouting 'what, doest though stand here to fuck time?'
Prog Rock: Would you like another cup of tea?
Me: Yes please.
This continues for several hours.
Later, he answered nearly every question on University Challenge correctly, to the complete awe of the boys. I can usually manage three or four questions and am used to getting unearthly respect for it, now I have been unmasked as a shoddy third rate loser (though I was the only one who got the whole round on German chart hits in 1989).
Tonight my actual father who is in town most of this week summoned me to his far-flung hotel for a bucket of gin to debrief me on his plans to crush his enemies.
After that I went to see Coup Fatal, which was absolutely stunning. It is a mix of baroque counter-tenor arias, Congolese guitars and dance and I know that sounds weird but it was just spell-binding. There was a degree of audience participation and I was very glad to be safely on the balcony as the beautiful, sinuous, sexy dancers picked out the dorkiest individuals (plenty to choose from, we were quite a WOMAD audience) to dance with. At one point a gorgeous semi-naked man in a kilt was dancing with his feet on the arms of a very sensible-looking middle aged lady's chair. The hem of his kilt kept brushing her nose as he gyrated and she sat very very still and very composed, possibly willing herself to wake up and find out it was all a dream.
Here is a short extract. It is about a million times better than this in real life. I am now officially obsessed with Serge Kakudji.
That is all. Oh, and I have a suppurating head wound. Always good to finish on a high.