be mine america...
stayed in the ("tiny") 'broom cupboard' at the dean street townhouse last night.
looking out of the window down a cobbled lane with heavy snow falling, felt very dickensian: soho at it's best: beautiful.
left london early.
returning to farm just in time to explain to sons that they'll be sent off to boarding school (separately) if they don't stop fighting.
which was a lie.
but
when they're apart, they're great.
when they're together, they just can't stop knocking the shit out of each other and winding each other up: constant.
in love we belong
mrs.perou drove sons on a 150 mile round trip to see our dentist.
she arrived late and missed the appointment.
i did a little late stable building before god turned the master lighting off and play was abandoned.
martin was in, raising the lobby ceiling height 3 inches.
well, in fact, i'd raised it already by tearing down the old one and martin made good by putting something back: repairing the damage of hurricane perou.
now there are very old exposed beams where there weren't previously.
some might say, it's a lot of work for a little return.
fine details.
i still haven't had time to think about christmas presents.
have sorted son's and that's it.
nothing for mrs.perou yet.
doh.
just in case you don't already know, 'tescos finest mince pies' are once again the best any supermarkets have to offer.
and i have drunk too much cider eaten a LOT of mince pies this year.
soundtrack of the moment: 'london girl' by 'the invisible'.
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