Good morning. Bonne matin et al.
I've been typing away to the late, great Kirsty MacColl's wonderful album 'Kite' since before it got light. It's wonderfully jaunty and infectious, and particularly useful if you want to wind the not-so-bright neighbours up with your out-of-tune wailing first thing in the morning as an act of revenge for banging their garage door EVERY single morning. There is something cathartic about wailing. 'I'll see you baby, when the clans rise again, women and men, united by the struggle going down,' at the top of one's voice in the morning.
Poor Kirsty came to a very sticky end when she was decapitated by a rogue speed boat driver who came charging through with his piece of metal into a designated swimming area at a resort in Mexico around Christmas 2000. She put herself in the firing line to save her sons. It's an awful ending, and frankly it gives her music added poignancy. Towards the end of her life, she was heavily influenced by Cuban music. What a woman! RIP Kirsty, and thanks for the music.
I am now trying to increase my word count to 7000 a day. I may die myself before this book is finished. After I've had my fix of Kirsty, I think I may move on to Joan Baez. I was reminded by a lovely friend yesterday of her music. I just hope I am not the author of my own misfortune by creating another blub-fest like yesterday's. Mabel didn't like all that moisture over her keys. I hope she doesn't talk to her Union and go on strike like the Tube staff!
I notice the horse chestnut trees are flowering already. What a glorious sight they are. Their numerous cathedral-like flowers always look so glorious. I am intending to go on a nice little jaunt later down by the sea once the mist clears and the sun makes a brief appearance. I get so much more done when I'm not burying myself under the layers of social media. I'm also so inspired listening to those breaks, transporting me off to the world of Brett and Darya.
Laters,
MJ xx
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