I’m still jet-lagged and could barely sleep last night. I lay in a pool of sweat with un-used melodies and the dog-ends of hundreds of conversations whirling about in my head. I started worrying about the motet, wondering what on earth I’m doing, and why. I’m almost constantly out of my comfort zone and the weight of responsibility is heavy upon my shoulders. I showed some of it to my soprano friend, Hilary, last night who had to remind me that although most sopranos have the high notes I’ve written, most won't have many of them before their voices get tired and pack up. Damn.
I’ve just heard the “single” from Lloyd Webber’s Love Never Dies or Paint Never Dries as the bitchy bloggers are calling it. Is it just me, or does the chorus have an uncanny similarity to the “single” from the same composer's Beautiful Game?
For a comparison, see the glorious Hannah Waddingham singing Our Kind of Love from Beautiful Game here
And then have a listen to ghastly Catherine Jenkins singing the very same song with a new set of lyrics here(Pay particular attention to her wonderful acting skills and listen out for the moments when her voice sounds like a honking oboe.)
I’m not sure why Lloyd Webber would choose to rip himself off in this way. Love Never Dies is a sequel – but it’s not a sequel to Beautiful Game, which is all about football, and not about a Phantom. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps he’s surrounded by so many "yes" people that no one felt they could point it out. Or worse still, perhaps his music has become so generic that no one bothers to listen to it properly anymore!
On Friday 9th March 1660, Pepys finally agreed to go to sea with his master, Montagu. He’d spent a few days mulling over the offer and finally acquiesced in the auspicious surroundings of the Painted Chamber at the Old Westminster Palace. There were a number of practicalities which would need to be dealt with. Someone would have to do Pepys’ job at Mr Downing’s office whilst he was away. Someone would need to look after his wife and maintain his household. As the day went on, Pepys obsessed more and more about the changes. He drank himself silly at Harper’s Pub, and then couldn’t sleep. The entry ends with one of Pepys’ first promises; "to drink no strong drink this week, for I find that it makes me sweat and puts me quite out of order"
These promises would become more regular as the diary progressed; and would frequently involve decisions to drink less alcohol alongside vows to limit his theatre visits and avoid sleeping with other women. Pepys was constantly wrestling with his inner Puritan...
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Monday, 8 March 2010
The return of the Pepys-o-meter
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the muse came to me in a big jolt earlier and I’m now speeding through the first movement of the work, which essentially deals with passages from 1660. And for those of you who are interested, here are the texts I'll be using:
Jan 1st 1660: Blessed be God, at the end of last year I was in very good health, without any sense of my old pain but upon taking of cold. I lived in Axe Yard, having my wife and servant Jane, and no more in family then us three. My wife, after the absence of her terms for seven weeks, gave me hopes of her being with child, but on the last day of the year she hath them again... My own private condition very handsome, and esteemed rich, but indeed very poor; besides my goods of my house, and my office, which at present is somewhat uncertain.
Jan 4th 1660: It snowed hard all this morning and was very cold, and my nose was much swelled with cold
Jan 16th 1660: I sat up till the bell-man came by with his bell, just under my window ...and cried, “Past one of the clock, and a cold, frosty, windy morning.” I then went to bed and left my wife and the maid a-washing still.
Jan 29th 1660: Spent the afternoon in casting up of my accounts; and do find myself to be worth 40l and more, which I did not think, but am afraid that I have forgot something
Feb 12th 1660: My wife and I had some high words upon telling her that I would fling the dog which her brother gave her out at the window if he pissed the house any more
August 19th 1660: My wife tells me that (her little) bich hath whelp(ed) four young ones and is very well... My wife having had a great fear that she would die thereof, the dog that got them being very big... After dinner my wife went and fetched the little puppys to us, which are very pretty ones
August 28th 1660: I spent this morning beginning to teach my wife some skill in Musique, and find her apt beyond imagination...
September 25th 1660: And afterwards did send for a Cupp of Tee (a China drink of which I never had drank before)
October 13th 1660: “I went out to Charing Cross to see Maj.-Gen Harrison hanged, drawn and quartered... he looking as cheerfully as any man could do in that condition. He was presently cut down and his head and his heart shown to the people, at which there was great shouts of joy... Thus it was my chance to see the King beheaded at Whitehall and to see the first bloodshed in revenge for the blood of the King at Charing Cross.”
If any of you have any thoughts on this, I’d love to hear from you. Obviously there's another 8 and a half years of quotes to feature in the work, so there isn't scope for a huge amount of material!
Thursday 8th March 1660, and Pepys spent a morning in Westminster Hall where there was still a great deal of uncertainty regarding the return of the monarchy. Pepys noted that everyone he encountered seemed either edgy or glum or as he perfectly worded it "a general damp over men’s minds and faces". Rumours of military rebellion were rife and people were still losing their jobs hand over fist. No problems in this respect for Pepys, however, who continued to shine like a beacon with countless people coming up to him and offering favours for favours.
Later in the day, he took his wife shopping on Paternoster Row to buy some Paragon (a kind of heavy duty fabric) for a petticoat. The new swaggering Pepys was beginning to place appearance right at the top of his list of priorities and Elizabeth would become a glamorous, nouveau-riche extension. Pepys had money almost constantly on his mind and the world was suddenly tempting him with almost limitless possibilities. He met up with Captain Philip Holland, who gave him advice about how to make money out of his forthcoming trip to sea by hiring extra servants, and siphoning off some of their pay, or worse still, pocketing the pay of fictitious servants who would never set foot on board the ship!
It seems Captain Holland was a somewhat shady character with extremely loose morals. Wider reading reveals he deserted the British for the better-paid Dutch in 1667 at the height of the war, when all was looking pretty glum for the home team. After a spell in prison, he switched sides again and agreed to become a spy for the English, no doubt sensing another opportunity to make a fast buck.
It’s interesting to wonder whether Pepys considered Holland's suggestions to be corrupt, or whether he was beginning to dip his toe into a world where taking bribes and skimming the cream was simply de riguer, very much like his wife's Paragon Petticoat.
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Mimosa Pudica
I'm back in London feeling wiped-out, stuffy-nosed and slightly jet-lagged. My bank's just called to tell me there's been some fraudulent activity on my account, something to do with florists in Russia, so I won't be able to use my card for about a week. Boo!
Today is about taking things easy. I'm hoping my brother Edward, Sascha and Hilary will be coming over later for food and Dancing On Ice, but if not, I'll simply curl up on my sofa and try to convince myself that it’s not 5 hours earlier than I think.
March 7th 1660, and Pepys was bustling about all day. He covered huge distances by foot all the way from St James’ Park in the West to the Eastern edge of the city of London and met a bewildering array of people. He was beginning to feel that he was right in the middle of things; people were asking for his advice and generally swarming around him and he was loving every minute.
Today's entry provides us with an early glimpse of Pepys-the-inquisitive, the man who would become obsessed with science and technology and end up as president of the Royal Society. On this occasion, Pepys met up with Mr Lynes, the surgeon, who promised him some seeds so that he could grow a “sensitive plant”, probably a Mimosa, which had fascinating leaves which curled up or temporarily dropped upon being touched or shaken. They’d have been imported, probably from the Caribbean and were about to become all the rage. Here's what wiki has to say on the subject.
It was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, and Pepys noted that people across the city were eating fish dinners. The puritans had abolished fasting for lent, so perhaps the people refraining from meat were actually making a political rather than religious statement.
Later in the day, Pepys went to the wonderfully named Popes Head Alley, which was a road just off Cornhill and the London centre for the sale of cutlery and toys. In Adam Chard’s shop he bought a catcall, which cost two groats (four English pennies) see here.
A catcall was a whistle-like instrument that produced a cat-like cry which was used for expressing disapproval at the theatre. Perhaps Pepys was planning a guilt-laden trip to a play, or maybe he brought it to irritate his wife’s troublesome dog, which avid readers of this blog, will remember arrived on February 8th.
In the evening, Pepys met up with his father, who had returned from their country cottage at Brampton, near Montagu’s estate in Huntingdon. He brought the news that Pepys’ Uncle Robert was gravely ill. Something had gone very wrong with his leg and if he died it looked likely that Pepys would inherit his estate.
Today is about taking things easy. I'm hoping my brother Edward, Sascha and Hilary will be coming over later for food and Dancing On Ice, but if not, I'll simply curl up on my sofa and try to convince myself that it’s not 5 hours earlier than I think.
March 7th 1660, and Pepys was bustling about all day. He covered huge distances by foot all the way from St James’ Park in the West to the Eastern edge of the city of London and met a bewildering array of people. He was beginning to feel that he was right in the middle of things; people were asking for his advice and generally swarming around him and he was loving every minute.
Today's entry provides us with an early glimpse of Pepys-the-inquisitive, the man who would become obsessed with science and technology and end up as president of the Royal Society. On this occasion, Pepys met up with Mr Lynes, the surgeon, who promised him some seeds so that he could grow a “sensitive plant”, probably a Mimosa, which had fascinating leaves which curled up or temporarily dropped upon being touched or shaken. They’d have been imported, probably from the Caribbean and were about to become all the rage. Here's what wiki has to say on the subject.
It was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, and Pepys noted that people across the city were eating fish dinners. The puritans had abolished fasting for lent, so perhaps the people refraining from meat were actually making a political rather than religious statement.
Later in the day, Pepys went to the wonderfully named Popes Head Alley, which was a road just off Cornhill and the London centre for the sale of cutlery and toys. In Adam Chard’s shop he bought a catcall, which cost two groats (four English pennies) see here.
A catcall was a whistle-like instrument that produced a cat-like cry which was used for expressing disapproval at the theatre. Perhaps Pepys was planning a guilt-laden trip to a play, or maybe he brought it to irritate his wife’s troublesome dog, which avid readers of this blog, will remember arrived on February 8th.
In the evening, Pepys met up with his father, who had returned from their country cottage at Brampton, near Montagu’s estate in Huntingdon. He brought the news that Pepys’ Uncle Robert was gravely ill. Something had gone very wrong with his leg and if he died it looked likely that Pepys would inherit his estate.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
The New York Symphony
It’s about 2am, and I need to leave the hotel in 3 hours. We’ve just spent a very exhausting day trekking across Manhattan and my feet feel like blocks of concrete. We had lunch in the village with Sharon and Ailsa, tea on the Upper East Side with Matt and Kieran and in the middle took a trip to the Rockafella Center to watch Matt and Mike Myers talking on the Jimmy Fallon show. Very entertaining.
This evening we’ve been trawling around the bars. Nathan remains somewhere on 28th Street, but I had to come back here to pack and write this blog, fearing the loss of time as I wing my way back to England, could well mean I don’t have another opportunity to post something.
Lower Manhattan is buzzing outside my window. I can smell toffee apples and someone is playing Lady Gaga at an incredibly loud volume. People seem to be dancing and singing on the pavement in a sort of The Kids From Fame meets Nightmare on Elm Street mash up! Car horns and sirens are cutting into the music, almost as though they’ve been scored that way. This really is a New York symphony.
March 6th 1660 was Shrove Tuesday and became a hugely important day for Pepys. Montagu took him aside, told him he had his back, that he trusted him implicitly, that he believed it was a certainty the King would return (if he could behave himself with appropriate sobriety) and finally asked Pepys to work as his secretary and accompany him to sea. Very exciting!
Later in the day, Pepys went to an annual Shrove Tuesday dinner, where he played a great deal of music and was generally very merry, particularly after a special dinner of "a leg of veal and bacon, two capons and sausages and fritters, with abundance of wine.” He dusted off those hollow legs again then.
It seems London was partying left, right and centre, for on his way home, Pepys called in on Mrs Jem “at whose chamber door I found a couple of ladies, but she not being there, we hunted her out, and found that she and another had hid themselves behind a door. Well, they all went down into the dining-room, where it was full of tag, rag, and bobtail, dancing, singing, and drinking, of which I was ashamed, and after I had staid a dance or two I went away”
It’s not clear why Mrs Jem was found hiding behind a door. Maybe it was something to do with her unsightly neck. Perhaps the girl she was discovered with was equally disfigured. Maybe they were quietly weeping and wondering why the world should be so cruel. We also fail to learn why Pepys felt ashamed at the party in the drawing room. Could it be that the ladies were behaving themselves inappropriately? Spilling out onto the streets and dancing to Lady Ca-Castelmayne? Or maybe Pepys was simply being overly protective of the young Mrs Jem. Perhaps all the guests were dancing in a circle around her and chanting the word "cripple". That's what they'd have been doing in Northamptonshire when I was Mrs Jem's age.
Whatever the case, Pepys rushed home but was too excited to sleep and sat up for some time with his wife in bed talking about his Lord’s "great expressions of kindness this day." He was going places. And he knew it!
This evening we’ve been trawling around the bars. Nathan remains somewhere on 28th Street, but I had to come back here to pack and write this blog, fearing the loss of time as I wing my way back to England, could well mean I don’t have another opportunity to post something.
Lower Manhattan is buzzing outside my window. I can smell toffee apples and someone is playing Lady Gaga at an incredibly loud volume. People seem to be dancing and singing on the pavement in a sort of The Kids From Fame meets Nightmare on Elm Street mash up! Car horns and sirens are cutting into the music, almost as though they’ve been scored that way. This really is a New York symphony.
March 6th 1660 was Shrove Tuesday and became a hugely important day for Pepys. Montagu took him aside, told him he had his back, that he trusted him implicitly, that he believed it was a certainty the King would return (if he could behave himself with appropriate sobriety) and finally asked Pepys to work as his secretary and accompany him to sea. Very exciting!
Later in the day, Pepys went to an annual Shrove Tuesday dinner, where he played a great deal of music and was generally very merry, particularly after a special dinner of "a leg of veal and bacon, two capons and sausages and fritters, with abundance of wine.” He dusted off those hollow legs again then.
It seems London was partying left, right and centre, for on his way home, Pepys called in on Mrs Jem “at whose chamber door I found a couple of ladies, but she not being there, we hunted her out, and found that she and another had hid themselves behind a door. Well, they all went down into the dining-room, where it was full of tag, rag, and bobtail, dancing, singing, and drinking, of which I was ashamed, and after I had staid a dance or two I went away”
It’s not clear why Mrs Jem was found hiding behind a door. Maybe it was something to do with her unsightly neck. Perhaps the girl she was discovered with was equally disfigured. Maybe they were quietly weeping and wondering why the world should be so cruel. We also fail to learn why Pepys felt ashamed at the party in the drawing room. Could it be that the ladies were behaving themselves inappropriately? Spilling out onto the streets and dancing to Lady Ca-Castelmayne? Or maybe Pepys was simply being overly protective of the young Mrs Jem. Perhaps all the guests were dancing in a circle around her and chanting the word "cripple". That's what they'd have been doing in Northamptonshire when I was Mrs Jem's age.
Whatever the case, Pepys rushed home but was too excited to sleep and sat up for some time with his wife in bed talking about his Lord’s "great expressions of kindness this day." He was going places. And he knew it!
Friday, 5 March 2010
A glaring Mary
We met Sharon in the East Village; a very dear friend who was at drama school with me. She’s one of the most effervescent people I know and always makes me feel that life’s just that little bit more worth living. She’s getting married in October and her excitement is infectious. We saw pictures of the dress and the reception venue, whilst sitting in a little hummus bar opposite the bass player from Travis!
It’s the 5th of March, which means it’s Matt’s birthday. After the hell he’s been through recently, he doesn’t really want to celebrate or even acknowledge the day, but we’ve bought him a few little gifts and we’re going to try and mark the day somehow, if not just with a raised glass to a better future.
Pepys’ March 5th, 1660, began with Mr Hill, the instrument maker, coming to string his theorbo; yet another instrument in Pepys’ ever-growing collection. A theorbo is a type of multi-stringed lute, see wiki here. Pepys loved anything to do with music making, and described his morning’s experience as greatly pleasurable. At lunchtime, he went by water taxi to Billingsgate, met up with friends at the wonderfully named, Salutation Tavern, ate enormous plates of meat and drank copious amounts of alcohol. One of his friends, Mr Adams, drank til he “began to be overcome”, which brings to mind a rather tragic scene, one which I'd love to have witnessed.
Pepys then returned to Westminster where he met Mr Pinkney, who proudly revealed a Charles I crest of the Lion and Unicorn emblazoned on a screen at the back of his chimney. I’m sure on many occasions during the interregnum he’d have felt the need to cover it up, but he claimed he’d cleaned it loyally every day. Symbolism like this, in periods of political and religious uncertainty, becomes incredibly important; a way of subtly expressing a view without attracting the disapproval of the world. Pepys’ early diary, for example, is littered with references to Catholic sympathising. On his visit to Audley End just a few days previously, for example, he finished a pint of ale and discovered the Virgin Mary glaring up at him from the bottom of his glass.
Thursday, 4 March 2010
Sleep tight, the milkman's on his way
I'm still getting over the shock of Nathan being here in New York. I can genuinely say that I had no idea something like this was being planned. It was such a magical moment. So many bizarre thoughts went through my head as I looked up and saw him standing there. On one level it seemed to make perfect sense; “Oh look, it’s Nathan” I thought... but then I started panicking; “oh my God, it’s Nathan. What's he doing here? What's he come to tell me. Something must be wrong!” Then of course I decided it wasn’t Nathan after all! And it was only then that I was thrilled. I think the You Tube video shows all these emotions fairly clearly.
Matt has put us up in THE most astonishing room at Soho House. It’s enormous. You could sleep a family of matchstick makers on the bed alone, and there’s an enormous bath standing freely in the middle of the room, which you could swim in.
Last night we had our tea in a diner on 42nd street and then watched Dame Edna Everage doing a show on Broadway. She was performing with an over-sincere crooner called Michael Feinstein, who was apparently famous, but had never entered my radar. His speciality is the Great American Songbook, that slightly nebulous genre of easy listening songs which seem to include anything written in America from 1920 to about 1970. He was caked in orange make-up and his hair (and shirt collar) was raven black. Before each song he’d say things like; “music touches my life and makes my heart leap” and then there’d be the pre-requisite references to Liza, Frank, Ella and all the other performers who only need a Christian name by means of introduction... sadly Michael hasn’t quite made it onto this list, although I’m sure he’d like to think he has. Edna, however, very much has. And she was hysterical. Laugh-out-loud funny.
We went down to see him (Barry Humphries) afterwards and he was incredibly charming. He remembered meeting Nathan before and described Matt as the greatest comic in the English speaking world.
Half an hour later were were in the West village at the Monster Bar, where we propped up the piano and
sang show tunes. Nathan did Anthem from Chess, Matt sang The Man From La Mancha, and I spluttered my way through Gethsemene. The highlight was definitely the moment when the whole bar – and I mean about 40 people – erupted into a rousing rendition of One Day More from Les Miserables; all the harmonies, all the different parts. Definitely one of the moments in my life that I thanked God for making me gay!
It turned slightly sour, however. Whilst we were making our way through Little Shop of Horrors there was a bang, a smash of glass and a shout from the other side of the bar. We looked up to see two men fighting. Proper fighting, not bitch slapping. A few guys waded in to split them up and it became clear that one of them had glassed the other with a bottle. His face was covered in blood, almost like something from a film, literally just pouring off him and gushing onto the floor. Very distressing, although we were told later that he was okay. It’s astonishing what people will do to avoid hearing show tunes!
350 years ago, Pepys started his day at his viol, playing and singing Orpheus’ Hymn. I reckon Skid Row might have proved to be more catchy. He then went to church where Mr Gunning, the minister, preached about charity. After church he ate at his mother’s house with his wife and maid and there was much high talk about religion; Anglicanism versus Puritanism. Surely not as interesting as Stephen Schwarz versus Stephen Sondheim, but Pepys hadn't just seen someone being glassed!
Matt has put us up in THE most astonishing room at Soho House. It’s enormous. You could sleep a family of matchstick makers on the bed alone, and there’s an enormous bath standing freely in the middle of the room, which you could swim in.
We went down to see him (Barry Humphries) afterwards and he was incredibly charming. He remembered meeting Nathan before and described Matt as the greatest comic in the English speaking world.
Half an hour later were were in the West village at the Monster Bar, where we propped up the piano and
sang show tunes. Nathan did Anthem from Chess, Matt sang The Man From La Mancha, and I spluttered my way through Gethsemene. The highlight was definitely the moment when the whole bar – and I mean about 40 people – erupted into a rousing rendition of One Day More from Les Miserables; all the harmonies, all the different parts. Definitely one of the moments in my life that I thanked God for making me gay!
It turned slightly sour, however. Whilst we were making our way through Little Shop of Horrors there was a bang, a smash of glass and a shout from the other side of the bar. We looked up to see two men fighting. Proper fighting, not bitch slapping. A few guys waded in to split them up and it became clear that one of them had glassed the other with a bottle. His face was covered in blood, almost like something from a film, literally just pouring off him and gushing onto the floor. Very distressing, although we were told later that he was okay. It’s astonishing what people will do to avoid hearing show tunes!
350 years ago, Pepys started his day at his viol, playing and singing Orpheus’ Hymn. I reckon Skid Row might have proved to be more catchy. He then went to church where Mr Gunning, the minister, preached about charity. After church he ate at his mother’s house with his wife and maid and there was much high talk about religion; Anglicanism versus Puritanism. Surely not as interesting as Stephen Schwarz versus Stephen Sondheim, but Pepys hadn't just seen someone being glassed!
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Astonished
I’m currently on a giant metal dart sailing over the clouds from Miami to New York, where the next instalment of my adventure will take place. American Airlines don’t seem to understand the concept of vegetarianism, so I’m tucking into a tiny bowl of warm nuts and loving every mouthful. The air stewards are a right bunch of surly bastards, which is apparently not unusual for a domestic US flight. As I write, they’ve blocked off an area with a service cart, whilst one of them tucks into a cookie, and the other one uses a pen to remove food from his teeth.
I have to say, the difference in me as a flyer nowadays is marked. I used to get on a plane and literally be in a state of blind panic until I got off again. I would dread trips abroad because I couldn’t imagine anything beyond the flight. A few early disastrous experiences didn’t help; an emergency landing on foam in Canada, and turbulence so bad once that an air hostess injured her head on the roof of the plane. At one point the fear got so great that I stopped going on holiday. Today, after a few jitters on take-off, I’ve been feeling almost calm.
We had a storm in Miami yesterday, and the wind was extremely high, whistling eerie tunes through the skyscrapers. We managed to get a few hours of sunshine, however, and I had a swim in the sea; my first since arriving here. Such clear water, such delicate white sand; such a far cry from the effluent and tampax-laden brown seas off the coast of the UK!
Another interesting UK/US Miami/New York comparison; I couldn’t find anywhere to buy a newspaper yesterday! The drug stores are filled to the brim with trashy magazines and novellas, but newspapers are something of a rarity. I don’t know what this says about Miami culture. Perhaps the residents get their papers delivered and it’s the tourists who aren’t interested in anything other than the shimmer of celebrity lifestyle. Perhaps I was simply looking in all the wrong places.
I’m excited to discover what New York will bring and very much looking forward to meeting up with all my friends there.
Bad news from the UK, however, as I called my Mum to discover a good family friend is very ill with a form of lung cancer. I hope very much she makes a recovery and wish her family the very best in what must be the most horrific time.
March the 3rd 1660, was a Saturday, and Pepys had a sheep’s head for his lunch; a thought which brings a small amount of bile into my mouth! Much of the rest of his day seems to have been spent brown-nosing and forelock-tugging. He was called for by Montagu and spent long periods of time waiting patiently in sub-chambers whilst his patron dined with the great and the good and settled into life at the very top of the social tree. The return of the monarchy was still by no means a foregone conclusion, and rumours were floating around about the possibility of MPs continuing to run the country with Monck, or even Cromwell Junior at the helm. This was bad news for Pepys, who consoled himself, unsurprisingly, with much alcohol. There was also troubling news from Sweden. King Carl X was dead.
NEWSFLASH...
I've just arrrived in New York at the Soho House to discover that Nathan has secretly come all the way here to surprise me! What an incredible thing! I am astonished! Matt was in on the whole thing and filmed me as Nathan appeared. He's put the film on You Tube. You can see it here
I have to say, the difference in me as a flyer nowadays is marked. I used to get on a plane and literally be in a state of blind panic until I got off again. I would dread trips abroad because I couldn’t imagine anything beyond the flight. A few early disastrous experiences didn’t help; an emergency landing on foam in Canada, and turbulence so bad once that an air hostess injured her head on the roof of the plane. At one point the fear got so great that I stopped going on holiday. Today, after a few jitters on take-off, I’ve been feeling almost calm.
We had a storm in Miami yesterday, and the wind was extremely high, whistling eerie tunes through the skyscrapers. We managed to get a few hours of sunshine, however, and I had a swim in the sea; my first since arriving here. Such clear water, such delicate white sand; such a far cry from the effluent and tampax-laden brown seas off the coast of the UK!
Another interesting UK/US Miami/New York comparison; I couldn’t find anywhere to buy a newspaper yesterday! The drug stores are filled to the brim with trashy magazines and novellas, but newspapers are something of a rarity. I don’t know what this says about Miami culture. Perhaps the residents get their papers delivered and it’s the tourists who aren’t interested in anything other than the shimmer of celebrity lifestyle. Perhaps I was simply looking in all the wrong places.
I’m excited to discover what New York will bring and very much looking forward to meeting up with all my friends there.
Bad news from the UK, however, as I called my Mum to discover a good family friend is very ill with a form of lung cancer. I hope very much she makes a recovery and wish her family the very best in what must be the most horrific time.
March the 3rd 1660, was a Saturday, and Pepys had a sheep’s head for his lunch; a thought which brings a small amount of bile into my mouth! Much of the rest of his day seems to have been spent brown-nosing and forelock-tugging. He was called for by Montagu and spent long periods of time waiting patiently in sub-chambers whilst his patron dined with the great and the good and settled into life at the very top of the social tree. The return of the monarchy was still by no means a foregone conclusion, and rumours were floating around about the possibility of MPs continuing to run the country with Monck, or even Cromwell Junior at the helm. This was bad news for Pepys, who consoled himself, unsurprisingly, with much alcohol. There was also troubling news from Sweden. King Carl X was dead.
NEWSFLASH...
I've just arrrived in New York at the Soho House to discover that Nathan has secretly come all the way here to surprise me! What an incredible thing! I am astonished! Matt was in on the whole thing and filmed me as Nathan appeared. He's put the film on You Tube. You can see it here
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