It's Willow Nursery Christmas Play rehearsal time; the Willow Nursery Staff choir, ably assisted by the Munchkin Chorus have been getting some pre-advent Christmas carol singing in, in an-ti-ci-pation of the annual presentation of the Greatest Story Ever Told. I bet Cecil B wouldn't have had a St Joseph eating-a cake–story–sideline.
"Pat a cake pat a cake baker's man
Bake me a cake as fast as you can.
Pat it and prick it and mark it with J
Put in the oven for Joseph today"
DON'T GO THERE!
Autumn is really autumning here on Clapham North-of–Northside; I stretched my legs across the Common yesterday morning and had a lovely leaf-furrowing time. I thought of the November All Soul's for obvious reasons: I read somewhere that as many people have ever lived and died as are currently alive today. 7 billion leaves is a lot by anyone's standards: I mean I suppose it's a lot - that's one of those google questions probably better left unasked, viz: how many leaves on a Clapham Common Plane tree? How many trees would you need for 7 billion leaves?
Jack wrote that Autumn was the best season - whilst being fully aware that the season of Heaven is Spring. He was also a big fan of old age for the same reasons, although at 64 he was rather more Saga than gaga when he died, the other two ages of the British being Lager and Aga. (Got that one off a post-card at Nancy McNeil's, although it wasn't originally referring to the writer of TLTWATW, obviously!) I guess there's some funny pun version there on English Literature Dons with a passion for Anglo-Saxon and contemporary pop artists although not sure how to adapt the age of Lager to the senescence of Sherry.
There's not enough time to do everything! Does anyone else feel that????
Virge noticed my breakfast at Cafe Nero this morning when we bumped into each other at Georgie's pastry counter and comment filtered back to the corridors of the Willow along the lines of "was it a heavy night last night Justin then?" OK, it was 2 croissants and a fruit salad and a limonata: but the coffee was just a hot water and the headache wasn't from imbibing. Honest!
Just heard from writing buddy at Sloe Solutions; Liz Cole is somehow managing to hold down a serious Munchkin Management position at the global leader in the Sloe gin industry while churning out 27000 words so far of a national novel writing month effort.
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