fat cat friday has been and gone (and will not come again)

horsemouth has his coffee. the heating is on. strangely the bin lorries are prowling the neighbourhood. 

yesterday was fat cat friday the day on which the average CEO has made the average yearly wage of a british worker. (so in horsemouth’s case they’d probably made his yearly wage by the end of play january the 1st). yesterday john clarkson was visiting and flew back (drones permitting). they went for a walk in the valley of the agapemonians (the night before they’d watched a truly terrible vin deisel movie). horsemouth was not around to see him off - a rare to chance to catch up with howard had appeared and had to be taken (down in pop(u)lar).

horsemouth and howard (aka. musicians of bremen) chatted, went and got a curry (at the curry hut) and then nipped out for a swift pint of session or two in the gentrifier’s arms. there is a broad intention to work on volume four - howard has a brace of songs already (including a great new version of robbie basho’s blue crystal fire as a waltz). horsemouth suggested recording those pretty much as is - and then responding to them with incidental music to try to create a song cycle (sort of thing).

anyway - nothing much can be done until easter.

he picked up a copy of daniel deronda (god bless library sales) for 20p (now he just has to find the time to read it).

in the evening a rapidly sobering horsemouth watched deja vu denzel washington’s this is the story of a man marked by an image... film as time travel (against terrorism again) fantasy. it’s denzel so it all has to end well.