Springtime in The City
Had a pretty good weekend though it got off to a very melancholic start. We awoke, on Saturday, to the news that Humphrey Lyttleton, jazz trumpeter, radio presenter and national treasure had died, aged 86. Humph was known to most of my generation and those a little older as the compere of "I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue", the self-described antidote to panel-games. It was his razor sharp wit and curmudgeonly persona that endeared him to a nation along side his ability to deliver the filthiest of double entendres without sniggering in the slightest. We listened to a couple of episodes of ISIHAC from my archive as a memorial.
After a late breakfast we walked, in the beautiful spring sunshine, through Clerkenwell and down to the Barbican. We'd picked the nicest day of the year to sit in a darkened room and watch a documentary about Helvetica, the typeface that this blog would be laid out in if I had the option. In spite of missing out on our vitamin D it was worth the sunlight deprivation as it was an enlightening and entertaining film. Tinseltroos left hating Helvetica; I think my love for it will never die but then I am an unreconstructed modernist at heart. Following the film we wandered back into Holborn for a drink with G, our third partner in typography. We put the world to rights and then T and I spent a quiet evening reading and playing music.
Today I was going to go to Lord's for my first cricket match of the so-called summer but as Tinseltroos and I had breakfast in Soho the heavens opened and I decided that a day's rain interrupted cricket was not what I wanted so I came back home as poor T went into work.
I actually managed a fairly productive day. I baked some no-knead bread (I'd started it last night) and I also cooked a courgette and mint soup to be ready for T's supper. I read both prose and comic book. I am really enjoying Warren Ellis' "Transmetropolitan" series at the moment alongside the chapter detailing April and May 1972 in Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72". I played some guitar as the rain beat against the window and listened to a couple of radio shows. All in a good weekend.
After a late breakfast we walked, in the beautiful spring sunshine, through Clerkenwell and down to the Barbican. We'd picked the nicest day of the year to sit in a darkened room and watch a documentary about Helvetica, the typeface that this blog would be laid out in if I had the option. In spite of missing out on our vitamin D it was worth the sunlight deprivation as it was an enlightening and entertaining film. Tinseltroos left hating Helvetica; I think my love for it will never die but then I am an unreconstructed modernist at heart. Following the film we wandered back into Holborn for a drink with G, our third partner in typography. We put the world to rights and then T and I spent a quiet evening reading and playing music.
Today I was going to go to Lord's for my first cricket match of the so-called summer but as Tinseltroos and I had breakfast in Soho the heavens opened and I decided that a day's rain interrupted cricket was not what I wanted so I came back home as poor T went into work.
I actually managed a fairly productive day. I baked some no-knead bread (I'd started it last night) and I also cooked a courgette and mint soup to be ready for T's supper. I read both prose and comic book. I am really enjoying Warren Ellis' "Transmetropolitan" series at the moment alongside the chapter detailing April and May 1972 in Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72". I played some guitar as the rain beat against the window and listened to a couple of radio shows. All in a good weekend.
Labels: cooking, film, melancholy, weekend
scribbled hastily by Mr Atrocity at 8:22 pm
1 Comments:
Your weekend does sound wonderful. All except the rained out cricket game.
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