Robert Fripp

Robert Fripp's Diary

Tuesday 09 February 1999

The sky is blue The

09.54 The sky is blue. The sun is shining. Life begins again.

The Little Horse is in London and flying today to Cairo with the BBC Holiday programme. Apparently, her hotel room overlooks the pyramids.

And now: to clear my desk.


#207, American Hotel, Amsterdam.

A question, which any experienced gigster is able to answer without missing a beat:

Q. How do you know that there will not be a car to meet an arriving gigster at the airport?

The same question, posed slightly differently:

Q. How do you know that that there is no hope whatsoever of an arriving gigster being met by a car at the airport, to bring their tired body and feebly dribbling psyche directly to their hotel; that no miraculous intervention against the press of universal laws can possibly occur, even were this to be at the direct and personal intervention of a highly placed cosmic mover and shaker?
A. Because your distributor / record company has assured you a car will be waiting to meet the pitiful arriving gigster.

At World Central the Big Two are in power mode; and Hugh the Big Fourth is preparing for a move to a larger room at World Central. All this is part of yesterday's redefinition and refining of personnel responsibilities within the office.

This morning, before leaving, I telephoned Vivien Elliot: I have been made an Honorary Nephew of Pierre & Vivien. This is a considerable honour. In acknowledgement, I drove over to their nearby Wiltshire village recently to deliver a bottle of celebratory Cremant de Loire.

The journey to Heathrow was delayed: a car transporter was burnt out, along with its five cars being delivered, near Junction 6 of the M3.