Perous Secret Diary - Keep Out

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this is not a still life

i do the morning run to tescos for strawberries and pastries pertaining to originate from denmark

david (kosten) introduces me to cousin marnie at the bunker and i introduce them both to the works of genesis p. porridge and helnwein.

i drive the bling-machine into town, through rain, wondering why i don't have an umbrella

balthazar appears to have been supplanted from NY to london, brick by brick

i meet my friend and sometimes boss, now collaborator, ben chamberlain, for a lunchtime scheme

steak frites, champagne and tarte tatin sits well with me and i am thrilled to realise (again) that i don't work in IKEA: that i am (almost) over-priviledged and that THIS is a good day at 'work'

on the way in to balthazar i meet martin deeson and he recommends his brother's restaurant in canterbury, called 'deesons' and promises a discount if i make it there.

on the way out of balthazar, i say goodbye to martin and hello/goodbye to chris floyd, miles english and tony chambers who also appear to have been enjoying a comfortable lunchtime.

i am wearing a homburg, dark glasses and a t-shirt that says 'COCAINE BLOWS' which features a dude with a bleeding nose.

chris floyd says to me, 'oh, i didn't recognise you'

on the street i say goodbye to ben and immediately someone with an umbrella stops to say, 'are you a famous photographer?'

'i am a photographer', i say

'oh, i just wanted to say i love your work'

'thankyou', i say and wonder if this person knows my name and then wonder for a short moment if that matters, at all.

my spanish lady friend joins me in covent garden and we drive to her basement flat in the west of london where i leave my glasses, by accident.

i drop a brand new chainsaw to the garage where i picked up the perou-mobile from yesterday.

the brand new chainsaw in the back of the perou-mobile was NOT a free gift given with every disgusting new chrome and white dashboard cluster.

it had found it's way into the back of the perou-mobile by accident…and least, not by it's own volition.

somewhere around acton, a care-in-the-community officer runs across the road, red-faced, screaming at my spanish lady friend 'PUT DOWN THE PHONE!!'

i look at him with disgust and roll forwards.

the care-in-the-community officer starts frantically hitting at the passenger window so i stop and do down my spanish lady friend's window.

the care-in-the-community officer realises, finally, that my spanish lady friend is not driving and using her phone and in fact there is no steering wheel on her side of the vehicle at all.

'i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't realise', he says, looking like he might have just made a cataclysmic error.

'why don't you bash at my fucking window some more?', i spit, boosting away leaving the care-in-the-community officer standing in the middle of the road looking as helpless as he is.

moments later i am at the university of west london to talk to some students.

UWL appears to be the ying to birmingham university's yang.

i try to give students a realistic understanding of what i do and what they might need to do, if they want to do something like i do.

it is good to see my old lecturer neil onslow there

neil also taught my spanish lady friend too.

it's not what you know but who you know, see?

me-linda, my assistant before frances, who was my assistant before clara, meets us in the far west of london for bad thai.

i am sure i am eating chihuahua in lemongrass not beef in lemongrass

it is 19 miles home to the bunker which i drive to slowly to through heavy midnight traffic

Perous Secret Diary - Keep Out: March 26, 2014