I’ve basically spent the day making a me-shaped hole in the sofa. I have until the end of the week to finish the orchestral arrangements of the music I’ve written for the 100 Faces project, so am having to work fairly long hours. I’m pretty pleased with what I've done so far. It’s a cross between the last movement of Sibelius 5 and Like An Angel Passing Through My Room by ABBA. Try if you can to imagine that!
We had a rather worrying letter from our next door neighbour who tells us that their house was burgled last week. It happened on Friday evening at about tea time, just as we were battling our way across South London. They bashed the main door of the house down and then several of the doors to the flats within. Quite how the burglars knew that no one in any of the flats was going to be in, I’ve no idea... Or how they got away with it so early in the evening without being seen. Worrying though, because it implies that someone's been watching us.
One of the issues with our house is that the only entrance to it is down an alleyway which is always dark. Two days ago I stopped a man who was pissing, by deliberately bumping into him so that he weed all over his shoes. He seemed fairly apologetic after I’d torn a strip off him. “I’ll cut your cock off if I find you here doing this again,” I told him, in an uncharacteristic display of crudeness and boldness. One of my neighbours was coming down the alleyway as I reprimanded him and as he staggered away, with wet trousers, she murmured “well said” under her breath, and gave me a big smile.
Pepys ate tripe coated in mustard for lunch, washed down with a glass of wine. Ghastly, but he thought it tasted lovely. I’ve baked another casserole. Mary Berry is on telly at the moment. Isn’t she fabulous?