Sorry, but Panini is not Italian for cheese on toast.

That little adventure aside, my day in Liverpool made a welcome change from tapping away on this keyboard. I collected my new business cards from the printer--and am amused by my own pleasure in them--and Worlds Apart and The Forbidden Planet kindly agreed to display posters advertising Parallel Dimensions.

I also dropped into Richard’s studio, where he was about to tattoo a crucifix onto a man’s inner arm. Ouch! Still, that’s where he wanted it--and he got it without much more than a flinch, too.

The sky has turned sooty here; looks like a thunder storm is rolling in. It’s been so hot here! The city centre was baking. The garden could use a good downpour.

It’s a gorgeous spring day here. I’ve got the French doors open, and Emily has dragged her blanket onto the patio step to stretch out on it while she’s sunbathing. The forsythia is a blaze of yellow, and cherry blossom is drifting like snowflakes on the warm breeze. Daffodils and crocus are in bloom everywhere, and there’s a pair of blackbirds rummaging for nesting material underneath the shrubby St John’s wort.

Yesterday I was in Liverpool as Kevin Holt, a photographer from The Daily Mail, had arranged to visit Richard’s studio so he could take a few shots of us both. These will be used as part of an article about cryonics which will published in that newspaper, probably next week sometime.

Afterwards I had a meander round the city centre, and bought a new pair of trousers--plain black, but the material is lovely and soft. I want a black top to go with it, something very dressy to off-set the plain black, but found nothing I wanted.

I had a peek at several shoe shops, too, which was amusing. What’s with all these stack shoes with 10” heels? Being 5’ 2” tall, 10” heels would make me look as if I was teetering on stilts.

1,070 words yesterday, which isn't too great. The arrival of our new fridge-freezer caused one slight interruption, as it took me ages to unpack it as it was wrapped in thick corrugated cardboard and sheets of polystyrene foam. The old one’s seal has perished, causing the freezer to overwork, and we had exhausted our repertoire of Scot of the Antarctic jokes long ago, (“Just stepping inside for some fish; I may be some time,” as we hacked though a block of solid ice.)

The afternoon finally saw a cessation of the week-long torrents of rain, so I took two bored little doggies down to the beach and let them gallop along the board walk through the sand dunes. Emily flirted with a handsome silky black fellow named Albert, who was equally enthusiastic. His bushy tail was wagging happily until his “mum” bodily picked him up and walked off with him firmly tucked under her arm, his little legs struggling to escape as he peered back at Emily.

This morning I spent an absurd amount of time tinkering with my website to update the news page and make the appearances section easier to browse. It’s a fiddly process, involving lots of left-clicking on each seperate subject box in each page column to activate the editing software, then editing the actual text, then more left-clicking to switch the software off, then re-reading, then re-doing something which means the software has to switched on again, ad infinitum.

This Saturday sees the annual August Bank Holiday Music Festival in Liverpool. It’s a huge free event, with live music in most pubs throughout the city, especially around The Cavern Quarter, plus big stages (usually three) set up in the city centre. Will it rain?!! It’s almost a tradition... I can remember watching Cat Scratch Fever – oow, years ago now! – and it rained so hard that my heavy suede jacket was soaked through despite my umbrella. The problem was that everyone else had umbrellas too, and so the rain was pushed into little rivulets which poured through the gaps. Guess who got trapped in the dense crowd exactly where one such rivulet cascaded down her back!!!

Yesterday I had the very real pleasure of meeting Kimberley (AKA thenaiadmuse) and her friend and travelling companion, Jordan.

Kimberley is coming to the end of a three-month tour of Europe. You can read about her adventures in her blog.

They only had a few hours in Liverpool, having arrived from Birmingham by National Express coach. I offered to show them around the truly excellent Walker Art Gallery, where they could leave their huge backpacks in the staffed cloakroom before wandering through the many long, cool galleries of seriously exceptional art. For good reason is the WAG considered to offer one of the most prestigious collections in Europe, and both Kimberley and Jordan enjoyed it. Jordan was thrilled to view the original Echo and Narcissus by the Pre-Raphaelite artist, John William Waterhouse, as he has enjoyed displaying a print of this in his home for years.

Take a peek - http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/walker/

Over dinner at the nearby Wetherspoon's, we chatted non-stop about art, their European travels, our own creative work, philosophy, ecology and green issues, life, the universe...! They both said the highlight of their travels had been the time they'd spent in the Damanhur community.

http://www.damanhur.org/

Kimberley and I have communicated via LJ for around five years now but this was the first time we'd met in person, and we got along incredibly well. Jordan was lovely too, and it was a pleasure to meet them both.

The time flew, and soon they were on the train to Glasgow, which is one of their last stops before heading for Vancouver and home.

(My bathroom is now filled with the lovely fragrance from the sample of Kimberley's home-made soap!)

I am now an Ambassador for the Liverpool 08 Capital of Culture celebrations. That sounds rather grand, doesn't it! What it means in practise is that I get to wear a little oblong enamel badge and to participate in a very minor spot of publicity, a state of affairs which is of absolutely no interest whatsoever to Emily, who has come into season for the first time and who has been avidly attempting to share her affections with anything within range.

Ygraine is not amused. Neither is Saffron, who has taken up semi-permanent residence on one of hubby's old jumpers which lines her basket, located at dog-proof height on top of a cupboard.

Actually, she has rather fallen in love with hubby's old jumper. It's the kind of garment which had gone slightly weird in the wash but refuses to wear out; the sort of Sunday gardening gear which would induce apoplexy in Trinny and Susanna, but which has become the centre of our contented moggy's world.

Jazzy, also known as The Lodger, has barely noticed the puppy's enthusiastic goings-on. We have two bells on our cherubic-faced predator, but she's still a mass-murderer of all things winged or hopping. I do wish she'd direct her attentions to the huge mosquitoes which we've been plagued with lately. Each evening is spent with arms impersonating a windmill as these loudly-buzzing bugs zoom in for a chomp.