Saturday, January 14, 2017
The man who brought the glamour of the Playboy Club to Park Lane in London in the sixties has passed away. I owed him much in those days. It was at his townhouse off Knightsbridge that I met a bubbly nineteen-year-old who was playing with the notion of becoming a Bunny working at the new club. Instead she became my wife.
Victor also booked the band I was managing at the time for a series of residency engagements which were very correctly remunerated. This was very welcome, given that in short order I would not only have a wife to support, but there was also a baby on the way. When the wee lad arrived it was clear that one of his given names would be Victor.
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Saturday, January 07, 2017
One hesitates to argue with an ex-wife, even one as helpful and amiable (albeit ferociously opinionated) as our daughter's mother. Hence I made no demur when Mickey counselled me to partake of Linsensuppe on Three Kings Day, claiming that adherence to this custom would ensure that there would be no shortage of money in the year ahead. My research hinted that the practice was more often associated with New Year's Day, but never mind... an Epiphany is always welcome!
In this instance, yesterday evening, the step towards enlightenment was the use for the very first time of the electric stove in my mini-kitchen!
In former times I could enjoy my daily meal as dinner served in a restaurant. When a few years back this became no longer an affordable option, I settled easily for a cold collation taken while relaxing in the comforting contours of my precious Genni armchair. However this is not a posture suited to the consumption of a bowl of heated-up tinned soup. I found myself obliged to serve my Linsensuppe at my desk, which felt quite odd.
But it tasted great!
Thursday, January 05, 2017
The various versions of the traditional song ends with mention of lords a'leaping, of pipers piping or of pipers piping to mark the twelfth and last day of Christmastide. The pious Theophanists confirm that after tomorrow we can return with a sigh of relief to something resembling business as usual.
My hope is that this will see an end of the 'writer's block' that has plagued me since the middle of the Advent season. It could, of course, be that my current work-in-progress was from the outset a non-starter.
No one is so old as to think that he cannot live one more year." This moved me to imagine a protagonist about to mark his eightieth birthday and preoccupied by the question of whether the name of the Roman philosopher should be pronounced Kickeroh, Sisseroh or Cheecheroh. I also chose to set my narrative in Abkhazia on the eastern shore of the Black Sea, with flashbacks to the little nation's brutal 1993 war with Georgia. My hope is that I can now return to this seriously complicated story. In the meantime I have not been entirely idle. Updating and editing my lavishly illustrated memoir Nosce te ipsum has kept me quite busy. For a very successful self-publishing colleague (whose Kindle sales I envy) I am also happily undertaking historical research, keeping my hand in as a champion Google-Meister.
Very heartening is the appearance on Amazon (the American site) of a buyer's review of Chance of Reign:
"I really enjoyed this excellent novel. The characters were deep and well developed. Mr Thomson has a vast knowledge of the historical period which gives this book the wonderful detail that makes for great historical fiction!"
Sunday, January 01, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Of late my blog has morphed into a personal diary, I guess. My New Year's resolution is to return to posting more frequently about transmediality and about the vicissitudes of the self-publishing writer.
Munich has been brighter during the holiday week which allowed Jessi May to spend so long here. Regular visits by the ladies meant that my little flat felt like a home, not just a 'home office' with a shelf to sleep on!
Yesterday it was time to send Jessi north, to Hamburg to join Tino and his family to see in 2017. It should be an interesting year.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
That was fun! I'm quickly getting used to having such a generous screen display. Jessica's gift to her Auld Da was not just the monitor itself, but her willingness to do all the stuff under my desk to make the needed connections. I fear my old bones no longer allow me to go down on all fours for that kind of thing.
I guess it was inevitable that my daughter should also find it necessary to eliminate from my work station all remaining 'dust bunnies'. She is profoundly unimpressed when I protest that my slightly impaired eyesight permits me to overlook such pernicious housekeeping lapses.