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Now It Can Be Told

I’m moving tomorrow. To Fulham.

It’s been an interesting past month or so. I got a cold which didn’t go away and it became apparent it was glandular fever. I’m still not 100%—the weakness and lethargy can last a couple of months—but I’m not too bad. (Having said that, I do feel a bit rough at the moment, but I hope it’s just the fact that I got a bit drunk last night, against medical advice…)

It is really, REALLY unpleasant to be actually quite ill in a town where you don’t really know anyone. I’d have really appreciated someone being able to do a bit of shopping for me, or walk the dog once or twice, just to allow me a couple or three days of complete rest. But it wasn’t possible here in Brighton. I had to drag myself out at least once a day to walk the dog and get food. It was, on the whole, a hellish period for me.
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In Search of Steve Ditko

Well, I needed cheering up. I’ve been suffering from the most abysmal cold/flu bug all week. I still feel rough, and my neck bumps are still a bit swollen, but it seems the worst is finally over.

And to make my diminished mood even better, my DVD of Jonathan Ross’s new show, In Search of Steve Ditko, popped through the letterbox. Yeah, that show I worked on, brag brag, egotism, etc.
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Being Red

As in my hair…

Being Red

Of course, being self-administered (about half an hour ago), it may not last very long. Be interesting to see. The docile expression is an optional extra. 😉
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What’s Another Year

Yeah, 12 months tomorrow since mom died. Can’t believe it really, and I have no positive feelings to report on the matter.

Still in a bit of mess in terms of living situation too. Wish I could just get settled somewhere. Very depressed. May get drunk in a bit. Dunno. Not much else to say, really.

Here’s an early 1980s pic of mom…
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Brighton

Right, so I went to Brighton yesterday (meaning Wednesday). That’s the moving situation. I’ve decided that, as Brighton is just 40 minutes away from London (the city centre) on the train, the air is a hell of a lot cleaner, and most importantly, you can rent quite nice places for about the same as you can get squalid dumps in most of London… that’s where I’m gonna relocate to.

The irony is that this is where mom and I planned to move to. We were still talking about this a year ago. It was roughly a year ago that mom started to show symptoms that led to a grim diagnosis and the end of her life. That’s been on my mind a fair bit, for obvious reasons, but I’m trying to not let it get me too down.

I do like Brighton, anyway. The seafront’s a major attraction, and as it’s not all that large, you’re never too far away from anything. I have to go into the city from here if, say, I want to browse a large music store… the only local option is a tiny HMV in Wimbledon. Yeah, Wimbledon turned out to be much smaller and less impressive than initial impressions suggested. :-/
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Coming to you from a Mac

What the hell, thought I’d try a test posting from The Other Side. Just to see how weird and kinky it feels. Hmmm. Well, slightly, maybe. Anyhow, it gives me an excuse to post this pic I took from my bedroom window in the early hours, around 3.30am, upon discovering it had started to snow:

Coming to you from a Mac
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White Space

Let’s talk about ambience. It’s by way of a ‘sort-of’ criticism of this house. It’s not a major problem, but what interests me is how so many people appear to disagree with my viewpoint.

Most of the walls are white.

Worst of all, for me, is the living room being all-white. I’m countering it to some degree—I’m filling as much wall space as I can with original artwork and prints. It improves things a lot. (Okay, so I might move. But the new place will 95% probably have white walls too, and I’ll be dealing with it the same way.)

I hate white walls. To me, it lacks atmosphere—it creates a feeling of sterility. Some people call it neutral but I call it sterile. If I had the autonomy to repaint this place, the living room would be a subdued purple or a reddish-brown. Whatever you hang on a wall like that really pops out, pleasingly, and the backdrop is so much warmer and friendlier.
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The Big Buzz

Oh, for the sake of balance: there is a huge, fuck-off Sainsbury’s round the corner. The clothes are rubbish and the Sound & Vision selection is about as tokenistic and paltry as you’d expect, but the food on offer (it is ostensibly a food store, after all) is nice and extensive.

And they sell Cote d’Or chocolate. *sigh* There goes the blood pressure again, but what the hell. I like it. It has a pretty little elephant on the wrapper (also embossed on the choc segments). The noir variety comes in 70% cocoa and nuclear-strength 86%. I’ve given in to temptation twice. I was awake for days.
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