Sunday, 30 March 2014


Up early - British Summer Time - looking forward to the extra daylight later today.

Feeling more like myself after a day off. I was in the COOP yesterday - it was full of idiots, the new Tesco does not seem to have effected their trade. An elderly woman was hovering at the meat section, she was tall for her generation, about 5'11 - dressed well - quirky but more stylish than erratic - she was obviously struggling with some kind of dilemma and stroking her chin, looking anxious - I assumed she was trying to decide what to have for dinner or fretting over the cost of living. She looked around, saw me and beckoned me over -

'Look at this, all the chicken has been reduced, this large family chicken is only £3, that wonderful - I'd buy one myself but I can't eat all that - you must buy one, it's very good value, too good to miss"

'I'm afraid I don't eat meat - but you're right, it is cheap"

"Oh goodness - you don't eat meat dear?... so what is it then, nut's and things?"

I didn't really know what to say - and not wanting to get into a moral discussion with her at that time of day although she was a really nice woman) - I just said "yes, I suppose so"

"Well, I can't say I blame you - it's all fat and water - no taste, dear, none at all - not like it used to be, terribly sad, I think I might get some nuts myself on the way out"

Most of the other customers were fat, rude and buying chocolate, and had semi-feral kids running about screaming and behaving badly, the parental control seemed to consist of shouting at them absent mindedly as a token gesture, and these were the people from 'nice' houses who should have known better. One woman just pushed into the queue and glared at me, then down at her swollen belly and gave me a 'I'm pregnant - I'm more important that you, I come first' look..

Last night I had a typical shit/fan situation. I have friends in London who specialise in re-colourisation, taking very old archive photographs and recreating the natural colours in new prints. Not the tacky stuff you get sometimes but really skilled, high end production, they work with archivists and museums to get the colours perfect, bringing a lot of lost detail back to life. They have done a lot of work with 'lost' history - including the archives of glass prints of native American portraits - the details and colours of the textiles are as true and accurate as is possible. They also make a point of presenting the colour with the original - so no attempt at conceit or deceit - and have had quite a lot of media exposure - it's all about skill and historical honesty rather than looking pretty. I put them in touch with a very good printer who can create colour accurate prints, and - because I'm frankly twice their age and have more experience - therefore more contacts, was able to arrange for them to meet up with a gallery owner who specialises in photographic prints of popular culture subjects - so that they could talk about the practicalities, politics and ethics of putting on a show in London. I spoke to a couple of other people and they agreed that it would be a good idea. The problem being - some people react really badly to recolorisation - as if it were cultural vandalism etc, which it can be if done wrong.

So anyway - the bottom line is that the meeting started well but went downhill when the pissed wanker husband of the gallery owner waded in and was staggeringly rude. I wasn't there myself - which is just as well, I'd probably have piled in with my fists.

The problem with Hastings is that it's full of over the hill media and creative types who think that because they have had a bit of success in their lives somewhere else, they are important - but not important enough, and not rich enough to live in London or Brighton - so they move here to capture some radiant fame and buy something bigger in the better parts of town - with the little bit of money they have left (always much less than they pretend) and swan about trying to be clever and important. Of course - that could be a description of me - except I'm actually still working for a living, have no illusions about how unimportant I am and I'm perfectly happy to admit that I'm here because it's the nicest place on the south coast I could actually afford. Yes, I can afford to move back to Brighton or London, if I want to live in a tiny studio flat - but I like living in a house and I don't need the pressure of keeping up. I also despise rudeness - professional and personal - and the arrogance of some people who think they are special - just because they 'say so'.

Gay Marriage came and went, nothing happened, the world did not end, a lot of stupid people said a lot of stupid things. That's all.

Very warm day yesterday and looks the same today - as a result, an ants nest has burst into life and they have invaded the living room. I have some powder somewhere.

I have quite a bit of work to do today - and the builders are back at 6pm to look at the roof again - all the money I'm earning will end up being spent as I struggle with the insurance company. I may be in luck with the PPI as I found some documents that identified my payment as £55pcm - over about 8 years, that's quite a bit. I'll be speaking to them in the morning.

It's the God slot on the radio - everyone seems very needy today.

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