Categories
art Rant

Hell is: Other People

Forgive me for rambling….

Rather lovely day yesterday.

Had lunch with Daniel Darling and his adorable girlfriend (?) in Cross Creek.

We were joined by Toby Mott and his friend Elizabeth.  Daniel went surfing and we drove to Malibou Lake where we sailed and then had a wonderful dinner at The Old Place on Mulholland.

Excellent food and service.  Charming!

A bird just hopped into the house and is now flying around.  We have just been for a five-mile walk so the dogs are strangely disinterested.

Willie is here visiting and we are all getting on like a house on fire.

I am going back to NYC next week.  I have people to see.  I think my Navy Seal may visit soon.

It has been fun having Toby visiting.  I sort of fall in love with my house all over again when he is here.  I am proud of the mountains, the house and the garden.

I see that my nemesis Amanda Eliasch and her truly talented friend Lyall Watson (whoring himself out to artifice) have written and performed in a ‘play’ called As I Like It.

Apparently it is rather ‘whiney’.  Apparently Amanda’s son Charles serves the actress who plays his mother as a weird, incestuous acolyte.  He has a huge head.  Apparently there is an opera singer with real talent who barely gets to sing.  Apparently the writer refers to ‘hairy legged lesbians’.  As we know, at her core, she is a homophobe.

Apparently this ‘play’ is crap.

It really isn’t any wonder, Amanda can scarcely string a sentence together.   It’s worth quoting the theatre programme notes:

This is a play what I wrote for my Father several years ago which he asked me to do after he had died. I turned it into a play with the help of Lyall Watson who had taught me at RADA in 1989. There are only a few plays for women and I wanted to contribute and increase the material available. It is a modern restoration comedy.

Yes.  You are going to do wonders for women with this pile of  tripe.  Wonders.

I once played Mr Puff at The Edinburgh Festival in Sheridan’s The Critic.   Have you seen that play?  A comedy of manners.  A real one.

Like Mrs Eliasch Mr Puff, the author of a terrible play, invites critics Sneer and Dangle to a dress rehearsal.

Puff explains to Sneer that he is ‘‘a Professor of the Art of Puffing’’: an author who has taught newspaper men and advertisers how to inflate their diction so they may ‘‘enlay their phraseology with variegated chips of exotic metaphor’’ and ‘‘crowd their advertisements with panegyrical superlatives.’’

Break a leg Amanda.  Read the review here.

By the way.  I was a terrible actor.  Terrible.

OK.  Next!!

What’s going on?  What’s really going on in the UK?

This ousting of the Murdoch family is well over due, applauded by the regime, the chattering classes, the aristocracy.

The public are baying for blood, hollering at the beastly Murdochs, “Get back on the boat like your criminal Australian ancestors.  Good riddance to bad rubbish.  Take your newspaper with you”

Hold on.

The British relish tittle-tattle.  We love it!  We love gossip!  The steamier the better.  Surely we didn’t lose our appetite for rooting through other people’s dirty washing?

Now The New of The World has gone…and the other news media get more cautious…

What, in heaven’s name, will replace it?

Are we witnessing the changing of the guard?  Has the internet (Google, Facebook etc.) and on-line news outlets like the Huffington Post trumped traditional media?

Apparently people don’t read The Huffington Post for the news..they read it for the gossip.

Was Murdoch simply too old, too complacent, too rich to have a grasp on our changing world?

Is this coup de grace being played out in the British press a pantomime we will see in the not too distant future in the USA?

One of the most telling quotes of the entire debacle:

The BBC’s business editor Robert Peston points out, the News of The World phone hacking scandal has hurt the entire UK newspaper industry, making News International less attractive to potential buyers if, as is now being posited, the British arm of News Corp is amputated and sold.

Does real, forward thinking money sees a future for print media?

Controlling the British has always been a huge problem for any invader and Murdoch will end up like all the rest.  Chucked out on his ear.  Romans, Saxons (initially invited), Norsemen, Murdoch.

The British public don’t a give a fuck about Jude Law having his phone hacked, that was just par for the course.  He deserved it.  They only started giving a damn when they realised that the police (who they loathe) were benefiting financially.

They only started caring when ordinary people just like them were proved to be abused, their ordinary stories sold, their phone messages ransacked.

Until Milly Dowler they didn’t give a flying fuck.  Then, rather amazingly, for an usually inert general public…they did.  And when the public speaks (remember Diana’s death) the establishment listens.

Remember the Queen of England reading/performing that excruciating statement televised by the palace at the behest of Tony Blair before Diana’s funeral?

The British let their leaders get away with much until they take too much.  A prudent leader will know when to stop.  Murdoch, his son and cohorts became too..how shall I say this without provoking your ire…they became too American.

It is obvious that American politicians are bought and sold by The Corporation.   They live huge lives with fantastic wealth and are applauded for doing so.

What baffles me is why a regular British MP with nothing much to gain should ideologically side with those who seek to do us, their constituents, harm?

During this entire scandal as heads began to roll I wondered again and again how British politicians benefitted financially from New Corp.  Unlike the paid for politician here in the USA it is unlikely that anyone in Parliament could benefit financially from anything…ever.

There are simply too many prying eyes.  Unless I am being absurdly naive.  Am I?

Is it simply the acquisition of power that our MP’s crave?

Categories
art Auto Biography

Billy Idol

Billy Idol and Vivien Goldman

I woke up at the Piettes.

I made Max some breakfast.   Sausage and egg.

After some confusion, half of us (we left Lily and Hannah at home) set off for the Eat Well festival in Culver City.

We ate well then headed to Toby Mott‘s Punk Art show at Honor Fraser‘s gallery.  Like the Haunch of Venison show in London, Honor organized a panel as a pre opening treat.

The punk panel included Billy Idol, Simon Reynolds (author) Vivien Goldman (NYU punk Professor), Garder Eide Einarsson (artist) and Toby Mott (old friend and curator).

The event made one feel very nostalgic.  I kept on thinking, gosh…I was there.  I was alive, going to gigs, Michael Temple dragging me up to Liverpool to Eric’s where I saw everybody perform.

Elvis Costello, The Clash, Joy Division, The Ramones, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Stranglers, Ultravox, X-Ray Spex.

Thank you Michael Temple for dragging me away from Ellesmere and my comfortable inertia.

I had a lovely time.  I like galleries.  I like Toby.  I like Honor.  I like the past.

I set up the video for them and wandered around with my phone shooting supplementary material.

Duncan and Anna

Al Pacino and Jeffrey Deitch in attendance.  Artists fawning over the latter.

“He’s the most powerful man in art.”  Toby said.  I was shocked.  Really?

Vivien Goldman and Honor Fraser
Categories
art

Toby Mott at Honor Fraser Gallery

I am at The Honor Fraser Gallery on La Cienega.

My old friend Toby Mott is hanging his show Loud Flash: British Punk on Paper.

While the Sex Pistols and the Clash wreaked havoc on Britain’s pop scene, their disciples were busy with glue and scissors, channelling punk’s energy and DIY spirit into hundreds of posters, fanzines and sleeve art.

Toby’s exhibition brings back these lost classics of the revolution.

Later on in the day Punk Archivist Bryan Ray Turcotte joined Toby at the gallery.  Bryan wrote the best-selling Fucked Up and Photo Copied.

Backdrop courtesy of Bridget Riley.

Honor Fraser Gallery, 2622 S La Cienega BlvdLos Angeles, California 90034

Categories
Death Gay

Catastrophe!

The past few weeks have been really interesting.

Annoyingly I’ve not been able to write about most or any of it and will not be able to in the foreseeable future.

As I have said before, as life gets really interesting the blog becomes less relevant.   Real life interrupts blog life and for that I am very grateful.

Eventually, when I am allowed, I will explode all over the blog and tell all but for the time being I am keeping my BIG MOUTH SHUT.

I am having to be covert.

Presently staying with friends whose main morning preoccupation is to read really bad news out loud off of the internet.  The corruption, the greed and the misery we create around the globe gleefully read out loud to their increasingly cynical children.

Frankly, there is no reason for a young child to have the worst possible news read out to them first thing in the morning as they prepare for school.  Scares them.  Scared me when I was a kid.  All that bad news about nuclear weapons.  I had a recurring nightmare about the atom bomb exploding.  On my own walking home from junior school up Windmill Road, Whitstable just in sight of my family home…when the atom bomb detonates.  A blinding light then a fierce, hot wind.  All I could think about was that I had to get home.  Of course, there was no home to get back to.

Right now my friend is telling her 8-year-old, “Brain damage is linked to cell phone use…”

Like a fairy story.

They had a lunch here on Sunday for two German friends.  A well-known actress and her film industry husband.   Within two minutes of arriving he announced the death of Perry Moore a man I knew in passing from New York.  Perry produced the Narnia films.  Years ago Toby Mott, Noreena Hertz and I had lunch with Perry and Tatum O’Neal at Freeman’s on Rivington when it was hot to have lunch there.  Perry and Tatum were both very drunk and weirdly abrasive.  Terry Richardson joined us for coffee.

Toby Mott, Noreena Hertz and? NYC

I was not shocked to hear about Perry’s death as it was somehow gay inevitable.  His father sadly telling the press that his son was on fine form the day before.  Well, nobody ever expects the death of a healthy young man, no father ever expects to bury his son.

Unless, of course, their son leads a double life.  We live, as gay men, lives away from our loved ones. Compartmentalized, fine one day..dead the next, slumped in the bathroom…oxycotin overdose.   It is too familiar to me.  So sad.

It would not surprise me if Jake ended up like Perry.

Anyway the German made some flip remark about Perry dying and gay people in general.  He didn’t realize that I was gay.  He didn’t realize that I was half Iranian so later made equally racist, inappropriate remarks about Iranian films winning the Berlin Film Festival.

Sometimes you just have to take the bullet so…I challenged him.  Within minutes he was threatening to punch my fag lights out.  His wife apologized for his behaviour.

They left.

Scratch most white Germans and a jackbooted Nazi goose steps out of the wound.

Samia Saouma my Lebanese ex-friend, gallery owner who lives in Berlin and is arguably one of the chicest women in the world was once applying her lipstick in the back of a cab when her white driver told her that she was a rag-head whore who should prepare for her next trick out of his cab.

Nice.

Recently I took down a whole heap of posts from this blog.  Blogs about him.  Removed until they had no internet traction.  Yesterday I reinstated them without his name attached.  Self censorship is not a good thing.  I also reinstated the Angry Reader blog that obviously came from ‘you know who’.

It amuses and disturbs me in equal measure that he would think that every achievement, everything of which I am proud he considers worthless.  This coming from a man who has achieved NOTHING before he was thirty years old (17th May) when I, in comparison, achieved so much!  Much more than anyone ever predicted.

By the time I was thirty years old I had written and directed plays, opened a restaurant, renovated houses, travelled the world.  Christ!   I did all that as well as being mentally ill, making enemies, etc. etc.

Achievement is not to be judged by others but rather owned by oneself.

I know that he gets drunk, stoned and lonely.  I know that deep down he would prefer to resolve rather than reload.  Time will tell.  Time, as I have often quoted, is the greatest distance between two people.

I know that the we he suggests laugh at me has always laughed.  They want me imprisoned or dead.   They condemn me and they condemn my friends for being my friends.

He, on the other hand, may be surrounded by friends, family and lovers but at the end of the day he has to face himself, as we all do, in the mirror.  I saw him wrestle with his conscience.

At that moment when I was most proud of him I should have just walked away.

As for the film?  It takes shape before my very eyes.  Working with CP in quite a different way than I have before.   That’s all I can say.  That’s all I want to say.

I still have no interest what so ever to meet, engage or have sex with any man.

Oscar party week.  I am not involving myself until Saturday.  Kick off festivities with Sharon…we will do the do…the merry dance.   Still, if I am honest, I can’t really be bothered.

I want to make my own film now…not celebrate the achievements of others.

P.S. Tatum O’Neal wouldn’t remember me.   She and Melanie Griffith once broke down together in an AA meeting.  Crying about the relationships they had failed to have with their children.   Meg Ryan looks like Melanie Griffith.  They must have had work by the same surgeon.  Meg Ryan wouldn’t remember me either.

Categories
art

Dinner at The Ivy

Yesterday I vlogged, today I blog.

Had a spectacular day.  Started early, far too early…really happy!   Walked the dog in Soho Square.  Breakfast at Maison Bertaux with darling Tania Wade.

Bought a Noel Fielding piece.

Tania asked after Jake who she met this summer.

It was the first time somebody had asked after him and I really had no feeling, no twinge, no tangible moment of nostalgia whatsoever.  On this blog, however, there are a flurry of enquiries about him every day…why?   His name is regularly googled, and the break up post about him almost always appears in the top ten most read daily posts.  Who is making sure that this happens?  He can’t possibly be that vain?

When Georgina asked me if I ever spoke to Jake I paused and wondered what we would ever find to talk about?  He wasn’t a bad man…he was just a normal man.  A regular guy with a sad and unusual back story.

Anyway, after breakfast I had a hair/beard cut and then I met up with Toby Mott.  We went to a very raw but heartening NA meeting on Frith Street…then we went clothes shopping on Bond Street.  I didn’t buy anything.  So many beautiful people promenading along Bond Street…unlike Oxford Street where the uglies congregate.   Toby was on very good form and we had a wonderful time together..he thought the Amanda debacle very funny.

Toby vanished into Tottenham Court Road tube station and I hurried back to Soho where I met Andrey my Russian friend who is studying politics at Cambridge.  He has been hitting the gym and looked amazing! When we got back to the hotel room he took time showing me his perfect body…just like a straight boy to do that!   Proud and delighted that he is being admired but appalled that I might be thinking about jizzing all over his chest.

Quite unexpectedly I bumped into Nick Love who looked so handsome.  We hugged for a good long time.  I was really pleased to see him and I think that he was really pleased to see me.  I adore him.

Andrey left to meet his Mother and after a well deserved nap..woke up just in time to pull on some tweed, spray on some vetiver and nip over to the Ivy where I met Charlie P and Konrad Wyrebek for dinner ($62).  Konrad, to my delight, doesn’t drink alcohol.

DELIGHTFUL DINNER..calves liver and bacon.  Very funny conversation, Charlie is very, very funny.  We were meant to be discussing our Sundance trip but didn’t much before Konrad arrived.

Charlie and I, like a couple of old lags, sparring for his entertainment.  Konrad enchanting, handsome and super smart.  Discussed my favorite artist and Konrad’s great inspiration..Gerhard Richter.  We romped through a lively conversation about Polish art, Kantor, galleries/gallerists, politics etc.

Konrad told us about a relationship he had once had that lasted 6 months but took a year and a half to get over.

Charlie and I amuse ourselves with bogus descriptions of how we met, “I met Charlie on Burlington Arcade, his crinoline caught in a door…”  or during the blitz..etc. etc.

We talked American politics and how the disgusting Murdoch wants to destroy the impartiality of the British press.  I started roasting Obama but Charlie persuaded me not to be so down on the President.  He said, quite rightly, “Politicians dissappoint.”  He went on to say that as a liberal I shouldn’t be ripping on Obama as it just  makes it all that much easier for people like Palin to succeed.   He’s right.

I just don’t want to go through what I went through with Blair.  The great Blair was our greatest disappointment but, unlike Blair, Obama seem to be a good guy..underneath it all…and we must give him a chance.

I, and people like me, must give him a chance.  I must stop reading the POISONOUS Huffington Post.

As we were pulling on our coats Konrad thanked us warmly for dinner, took loads of pictures and said, “I am usually so bored by people.”  Darling, I thought, so am I..so am I.

Boredom is my greatest enemy.  Yet, as I confided to Konrad, lately I have had the merest splinter of self doubt…and as we know a splinter can be very, very painful.

Walked a little with Konrad through Soho.

He may come to Paris with me this weekend.  That would be fun.  I liked him (and his wonderful enthusiasm for life and art) a great deal.

Categories
Rant

No Hot Water!

[wpvideo tOChsPr1]

Categories
art

Billy Childish

Billy Childish 2/1/2011

I spent the morning writing lists.

Decided NOT to go to Florence as I couldn’t make the bloody SNCF website take my frigging credit card.  So, I booked into Dean Street Town House and decided to spend some days in London instead.  After all..London is by far a more exciting city than Florence.

By Midday I had made all manner of plans with various friends.  Toby Mott, Tim and others.

Whilst in town have resolved to throw myself into AA meetings, which I have been loathed to do since I arrived.

The day could have ended there but, on a whim, decided to pop in on artist/writer/rocker/father of two Billy Childish who is enjoying something of an art world reprise.

The day would get not only very much better but also very expensive.

I have known Billy since we were at Medway Art College Foundation Course in the late seventies.   Another one of my up and down explosive relationships…but I have always been a great supporter of his and he me.  An unlikely friendship.

When I lived in Whitstable I would spend most Sunday afternoons with Billy and his Mother June.  Delicious roast chicken lunch every Sunday.

For the longest time I thought that he would end up like artist and dandy Sebastian Horsley:  successful once dead. Thankfully that has not come to pass.

Billy’s monumental new work has become monumentally well received.  After a sell out show at the Basel Art Fair and a major New York exhibition in an important gallery planned for the end of the year I can perfectly understand why he seems so confident.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwb6v2tkqRA]

These new paintings are unbelievably beautiful and really hard for the Art Establishment to ignore.   The new work has an impeccable provenance.   Obvious influences include German Expressionists: Erich Heckel, Kirchner, Nolde.

Dreamlike reworking of earlier paintings as well as bold painterly portraits of Billy’s great heroes (Jean Sibelius) and when I was there, an epic series of paintings reworking images from the Battle of Wounded Knee.

Billy has been cruelly left out in the cold for nearly thirty years.  The art world added insult to injury by choosing to patronize the second-rate antics of Tracy Emin over her acknowledged mentor and ‘inspiration’.

I remember introducing Jay Jopling to Billy in Whitstable one Sunday afternoon and was shocked by Jay’s indifference.  Jay told me after the meeting that he thought Billy ‘aggressive and tricky’.

It brings a tear to my eye to see him finally and rightfully accepted into the fold.

Today I filmed him painting in his studio.

People ask him how long it takes to paint a painting.   “What can I say?”   Stabbing at a ten foot high canvas with his charcoal.   “An afternoon or thirty years?”

The new work is huge.

Of course it’s huge!  He is no longer restricted…physically…no longer painting in his bedroom.  He is being acknowledged.  He has a huge studio.  His wings no longer clipped.

These paintings are important.

We talked at length about Tracy Emin his long time ex girlfriend…who, when he saw her the time before last, rudely told him that she could not be bothered to hang out with anyone who ‘hadn’t realized their potential‘.

Tracy!  What a pompous cow!  Liar to boot.

Anyway, since the upturn in his fortunes she is suddenly very friendly with Billy.  He will, by far, crush her with his fame and fortune….even though he has no intention of doing either.

Tracy is a silly girl…she believes in her own greatness whilst all the time using made up stories to fuel interest in it.    Tracy, you mad cow…listen to me…we all realize our potential sooner or later…sometimes quickly…sometimes slowly.

I have a huge collection of Billy’s work.   Beautiful things.

Julie, Scout and Billy 2/1/11

Categories
Gay

Anomaly

HLN again tonight.  4pm my time.  Fantasia follow-up and more sex tape discussion, this time about Heidi and Spencer Pratt and my FAVE topic..Tiger Woods.  I love going into CNN with my button down and coat to trash talk celebrity.  It’s so much fun.

Let me know if you watch it.

Everyday I see who and why people are visiting this blog.  Not individually of course but how many people and what they typed into the search engine to get to my blog.  Every day people look for Kristian Digby, hundreds of people.   It’s lovely that people come to this blog to find the facts about his funeral and where he is buried etc.  I feel as if, in some small way, I am being of service.

Which brings me to my next topic.  Being of service.  One of my commentators very rightly pointed out that I have been less than kind recently on these pages.  Very unforgiving.  This was an accurate criticism and one that I am going to take care of addressing.

Of course I have forgiven Irene and Jake.  Irene because she is so like me and Jake because, poor little lamb, he didn’t have a clue what he was getting involved with.  Mostly I have forgiven myself.  I loathe being angry Duncan.

I am having a great time NOT having to worry about Jake.   He’s going to be just fine.  He’ll meet a lovely man (one day) and settle down and do whatever he has to do to make life exciting.  He’s good-looking, intelligent,  funny..a perfect combination.  The other gays seem to get where he is coming from so he’ll get on with his gay life with aplomb.

So, I am sorry for being a knob about you JB but you kinda deserved it.

I have a great deal to be happy about. I forget regularly this very important fact.  I don’t have to think about all the shitty times I can remember the good times.  The sweet times.  What I learned.

Relationships are very confusing.  It’s best that I don’t have them or think about them.  I lose my balance when I am in a relationship.  As for sex?  Well, this weekend I am invited to a ‘sex party’ in Long Beach…hahhahaha..yeah right…that sounds like HELL.   I would rather have Saudi’s gauge out my eyes.

Spent a lovely evening with a bunch of gay men last night.  I have always wanted a group of gay men around me who I like and trust and am inspired by.  Last night I kinda found that rather than hanker after a bunch of cool gay friends..I already had them.  After dinner we watched The Graduate and then a two-hour long Q&A with Dustin Hoffman.  It really was a magical evening.

Read in the Observer yesterday that the Editor of Attitude magazine, a British gay glossy, had written a lively piece about gay men’s mental health and how toxic shame can destroy our lives.

He quoted Alan Downs The Velvet Rage which any self-respecting gay has read a million times since it was published 5 years ago.   The editor was concerned that his readers would consider it controversial.  It’s about bloody time that we looked at how shame has shaped our lives.

“Yes, we have more sexual partners in a lifetime than other groups of people,” Downs writes. “At the same time, we also have among the highest rates of depression and suicide, not to mention sexually transmitted diseases. As a group, we tend to be more emotionally expressive than other men, yet our relationships are far shorter on average than those of straight men.

“We have more expendable income, more expensive houses, more fashionable cars, clothes, furniture than just about any other cultural group. But are we truly happier?”

Exactly, why bother taking ourselves seriously when there’s stuff to buy?

The reason why so few editors of Gay magazines write about gay mental health is that they are all BONKERS and terrible drinkers and drug takers.  A sober gay man is still an anomaly.

Cancer update:  Toby Mott just suggested that I ebay my balls.

Categories
Love

A Prayer

Some people come into your life and teach you just what you need to know just when you need it.

Some people take what they need and leave like thieves in the night and one must be willing to sacrifice all that one has for those who have very little.

They would not steal unless they really needed it.

Friends come and go.  Those you have loved with such great passion eventually fade away.  Old friends die, but remain eternally in one’s heart.

I am grateful that I have had a life enriched by so many.   Each and every one of you, whether you like me or not continue to add new dimension and colour to a life less ordinary.

I tread water so that others may not drown.

Can you help me please?  Can you show me the way?  Can you be wise for me?

Occasionally my Wikipedia page is vandalized.  They always do the same thing.  They take down all my achievements leaving only the acts for which I am notorious.  They underline every cruel adjective ever tossed my way.  They remove every kind word or deed.

They want you to believe that I am only bad.  That I am only capable of cruelty, vileness and loathing.

I wonder what sort of fool does that?    I know some of you have found it very hard to forgive me for merely surviving against the odds.  I know that you would like me to end up like Sebastian Horsley: alone and dead and cold.  Frankly, when the time comes..who cares?

Chatting with Toby Mott yesterday we concluded that Sebastian maybe more interesting dead than alive. We agreed that the British art establishment ignored his life but will embrace his death.

However I may be rewritten on the pages of Wikipedia the truth is I am all the things I have been described, good and bad.  Yet, in my eyes, neither as good or bad as the next man.  Why is it so impossible for those who seek to devalue me to own that this might be true?

We are all made of devil and angel.

I may have made errors of judgement, lost my temper occasionally, owed some people some money but I have never raped or murdered anyone.  I have never committed treason, nor have I been part of any radical conspiracy.

I have been a bit of a cunt but who the fuck isn’t?

I have no desire for legacy.  When I am dead and gone the sand will cover the place where my footprints once were.  The tide will wash away any evidence that I even existed.

God save me from mediocrity, from suburban thinking.  God help me stay curious about everything forever and sensitive to those I love.

You know, I have never understood why people treat love so casually.   When I first feel a connection with someone, when I feel that love is in the offing I am not only inspired but convinced that new love must be treated like a precious thing, as fragile as a Ming vase.  If we are truly capable of romantic love then we must treat it with respect.  As relationships grow the vase morphs into an old leather football that can be tossed around if needs be.

Time, familiarity, endurance, perseverance all serve to strengthen love.

I have prayed these past few months to be delivered from the worst that love has caused in me.

Have my words far outweighed my actions?  It is easy to say that you love someone but maybe the word should never be spoken.  Love should be like a silent film.   If I truly love you, if my love is pure then you will know it and honor it.

Long chat with my mother yesterday.  She sounded happy.  The Women’s Institute keeping her busy.  My brother’s baby will be christened on August 1st.