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Monsoon season

Rained without end, it did. Buckets per minute coming down all night. Only to stop, wait for it, 2 minutes before my alarm went off. How do I know this? Because I was awake most of the night listening to the damn stuff.

However, that came after a - and I'll say this in a terribly English way, perfectly lovely day with Messrs Doctorow, Jones and Ellis (and latterly, Gyford) killing time in the city, the south bank (albeit briefly due to it being Sunday, and of course we all sort of forgot that on Sundays, London is officially dead, with its twitching member being Soho) and obviously, therefore, Soho.

Cory and Warren seemed determined to outdo each other on the smoking front and according to Michael Fish, it was the hottest day of the year - certainly the most humid - as you'll see from Cory's photos - I ended up with a searing headache which I attributed to the fags but I think was more likely to be the dense wet air.

(My God you can't half see my burgeoning bump in those photos - I would like to make it very clear my belly does not look like that normally!).

Generous to a fault, Cory had very sweetly thought of bringing a hardback copy of his novel as a present, as a thank you for staying at our flat. At which point I had to point out the paid for copy on the bookshelf (next to "All familes are psychotic" - which can't be bad). Warren very sweetly bought a plastic wrapped copy of Orbiter up from Southend, which I took to give to someone else given that I bought it in SF about 6 weeks ago! However, he also brought up a copy of "Haunted" which is a very stylised "Magic London" type tale which seems to be mixed with "Scars" type gruesome blood & guts. I missed that at the time so thank you for filling my brain with yet more delightful imagery of men dying with slices slashed out of their faces, or girls dying with aborted foetuses in the gutter. Sometime's Warren's just not masculine *enough* for my liking.

Matt took us on a detour to St Batholomew's Church, which I really don't remember visiting as a kid (see previous blether). I always remember the amazing entrance way, some distance from the church but astounding that we never went in (maybe we did but I don't think so). It's a beautiful little church, rich and throbbing with London life and history. Doing that lovely thing where, placing your hand gingerly on a hand-sweat blackened pillar, you feel an energy drawing from the stone. The energy of the presence of people over the centuries. Of the building, slowly breathing and exhaling its memories.

Anyway, lots of yawning. Warren didn't leave until very late so I can't imagine him getting back to Southend much before midnight.

Even more yawning now.

On a slightly different tack, yet more intrigue surrounding Soya / Tofu which has not been fermented. John C Dvorak is doing the guest blog at Boing Boing and he's been discussing the Isoflavones in Soya, which can be a real boon to women going through "the change" - however, soya is used in so much food, the detrimental effect of having these oestrogenic actions happening in everything even non-vegetarians eat could be interesting to scientists, but strangely, not a hell of alot of research is going on as yet. The only link that was handy and seemed sensible though was this one which seems to be a very sensible rebuttal to the OTT western consumption of Tofu.

The old research done on Hawaii examining the elderly Japanese community and finding an increased number of Altzheimers patients amongst those who ate non-femented tofu on a hyper regular basis (as opposed to "every so often") is a link that I can't seem to find now but has also yet to be substantiated, but of course worries me.

I am *slightly* concerned - and have been, about the increase of tofu protein I've been having during the pregnancy but it's a short term thing so I can't imagine it doing that much long term harm. So. God Knows, frankly.

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