23: South Sea Island

Posted in Diary posts on December 11th, 2010 by Peter Baker

11 December 2010

Mauritius is a product of volcanism. From 13 million years ago, the Earth’s core punched a hole through one of its tectonic plates and began to spew lava onto the floor of the Indian Ocean. By seven million years ago, an island had broken the surface, 855 kilometres east of what is now Madagascar. By 200,000 years ago, the volcanoes were spent and the colonisation by life in full swing. Read more »

22: Pilgrim’s Progress

Posted in Diary posts on December 1st, 2010 by Peter Baker

1 December 2010

With Dad ensconced in his new home, life got simpler.  That week, my surgeon gave me the all-clear that I had my body back, which left me floating with happiness.  The old routine was readopted, my muscles began knitting back together and, with some glee, I returned to the book. Read more »

21: Earlings Full Stop

Posted in Diary posts on November 24th, 2010 by Peter Baker

24 November 2010

The pivotal phase, in moving our family seat from the Hansel-and-Gretel magical cottage, which – for four decades – had been a vortex of peace, companionship and spiritual harmony, took place across three weekends. Read more »

20: A Brief Lull in my Strategy

Posted in Diary posts on November 18th, 2010 by Peter Baker

18 November 2010

I cope with the pressure through exercise. Since the summer of 2007, with the exception of three weddings and a music festival, it’s been relentless. Weekends are a jumble of competing demands: a creative project with a hundred strands; the tangled challenges of my extended family. Then, at 8.30 a.m. on Monday morning, my head snaps into work mode and a five-day saga begins – the occasional moment of tranquillity in a sea of fire-fighting, everything-that-can-go-wrong and one-crisis-to-the-next.

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19: Post-Production II – Blood and Proof-reading

Posted in Diary posts on October 27th, 2010 by Peter Baker

27 October 2010

Bits of me started going wrong in the summer. This meant seven visits to my marvellous dentist in Bloomsbury, Dr Cline, who plays me Simple Minds and gangsta rap. But the real bummer was tearing my stomach muscles (‘hernia’ lacks romance, so I’ve dispensed with the word). Weird spasms in my leg alerted me to it. I went straight to my GP. He referred me to the surgeon, which led to multiple trips to Newham University Hospital where they prodded me, sucked my blood and decided to operate. Read more »