Saturday, 28 March, 2009

Margate is malodorous muck but one has no choice in such matters. Saw a pink seagull descending, Magritte-fashion, atop a discarded poster advertising Ted Rogers on the Pier. Wonder whether Fripp will be interested in fashioning a tabletop nestloop but what do I know about Stoke Newington these days? Went to Harry Ramsden’s for mirth chips but they were vile. At matinee all anyone was talking about was this new Dizzy Rascal song about “Going Bonkers.” Well aren’t we all? Made up a bit of business with the gramophone arm and gratis grinder that Clement showed me back in 1968 & that got a few chortles but Dame Bill was not impressed. “The build-up to the Grail opening was totally botched,” he butched. “We really have to work on this before taking it back to London .” I opined that it needed at least five years of polishing in the provinces but realised I wasn’t going to get back to Suffolk for early retirement that way. Great Yarmouth will have to do. For tea it was mirthless cod & Yarwood. Reluctant tradiola. Albert Steptoe. The amazing versatility he conjured out of a grey clothes peg.