I carry the outside around with me...

Ezekiel sleeps on our bed, owls play on my record player (that’s a band), and according to the calendar the clocks go back next week, which somehow always seems deeply significant in my life. More than autumn, it brings changes. I guess I sound like old Windy Miller who use to whistle for the wind, but seasons matter to me.
Summer in Germany, I’m still trying to make sense of exactly what happened over there, aside from Ezekiel being loved by everyone. I work 3 days a week now answering the telephone for the daily telegraph book service, which is better than asking random people their thoughts on energy efficiency in the home (ahh, old opera went bankrupt). The editor of a Canadian newspaper called me to tell me “That bastard editor of yours promised me he’d sent me this book, well I ain’t got it yet. Can you send it to me?” (actually, I liked this Canadian, I was kind of hoping he’d offer me a job over there). Franny works Saturday afternoon’s in her old tea room, and the rest of the time is spent bringing up the baby. Which is the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever felt.
Franny and I both feel something is ending here, I think it’s Norwich….I think it’s time to move again, who knows where, someplace in the country where Franny’s friends live (a chaotic but loving young hippy family in a big dirty house) it may well be. And a car too. 29 years, only 2 of them spent with my own car, and that was way back when I was 17, driving to and from school, sometimes stoned, sometimes cutting school for the bright lights of Thetford (hmm). Anyway, now it’s time for a car. When you have a baby who really wants to stand around waiting for buses, only to be told when it finally chugs to a standstill “Sorry son, there’s only room for 1 pram on this bus and there’s already one there”
Back to the new job. I find myself looking for people I use to know who may have ordered before. I find some of those old public school kids I know (I mean, who else would read the DT at my age?), and wonder if I’ll ever see these people again. I hope not. School. My father always use to tell me “school is the best days of your life”, which at the time I really kind of believed and as just surviving school was tough enough I imagined life to be hell, but since leaving school (and university too, although I had a wonderful experimental time at Uni), life has become more and more precious, and more joyful. I wonder what those rich school kids are up to now? They’re probably all very successful.
I’m still selling books. http://maughansbooks.blogspot.com a few old book dealer things I wrote up there. I guess maybe in 20 or 30 years I’ll sell some book worth half a million, until then…well, what’s the hurry to be rich when you have a beautiful wife and a charming little boy to play with? Luxury can wait.

Reading ‘ Jack Kerouac “big sur”
Music Bob D “modern times” / Roddy Woomble “my secret is my silence” / Owls “Owls” / boy least likely to “Ezekiel’s Songs” / Bebel Gilberto “tanto tempo” / Sonic Youth “rather ripped” / joan of arc “eventually, all at once” / majik markers “live” / broken social scene “singles” / stan getz “didn’t we”
Others - Ananbel Karmel “Top 100 baby purees” / hamlet cigars / Robert Lowell / How do you solve a problem like Maria / The nightmare before Christmas / Today program.