Sunlight in the abyss
A few hours drugged sleep, and wasn't too bad for a post migraine day. Dealt with a few business matters first thing. Funny how jobs turn up in threes like buses. Some negotiation needed as they all want me to start in the same week. But obviously with the world's financial systems going to hell in a handcart, the idea of making some last cash before I start having to grow turnips in the twitten and burn literature for heat is quite comforting.
Scored chewy brown bread and pain aux raisins for breakfast, and a spot of Guardian reading. Headline: Staring into the abyss with a picture of Gordon Brown looking at an out of focus Alistair Darling, his chancellor. Left Mum and Mase with the cat and zoomed off for yet another chirporactor's appointment. Where I was cracked in ways I have never been cracked before.
Then I had an enjoyable lunch with Mum and Mase in the The Sussex Yeoman, a cat's spit from my house. Food quite nice in there, and in the bright sun the streets looking white and pretty and characterful. We sat looking across the road from the newly painted The Battle of Trafalgar. Then Mum and Mase left for the smoke, with only mildly scratched hands. It was great to get them down here.
Working on poems this afternoon. Had planned to go out and inflict them on somebody seeing as it is national poetry day, but felt too shattered, which was a shame.
Looking happily tonight at two paintings my mum has done of Skelton Yawngrave. They're smart.
Below found Calliope sleeping on her pack under a cushion on my gold sofa. Yes, I know I am sad.
A few hours drugged sleep, and wasn't too bad for a post migraine day. Dealt with a few business matters first thing. Funny how jobs turn up in threes like buses. Some negotiation needed as they all want me to start in the same week. But obviously with the world's financial systems going to hell in a handcart, the idea of making some last cash before I start having to grow turnips in the twitten and burn literature for heat is quite comforting.
Scored chewy brown bread and pain aux raisins for breakfast, and a spot of Guardian reading. Headline: Staring into the abyss with a picture of Gordon Brown looking at an out of focus Alistair Darling, his chancellor. Left Mum and Mase with the cat and zoomed off for yet another chirporactor's appointment. Where I was cracked in ways I have never been cracked before.
Then I had an enjoyable lunch with Mum and Mase in the The Sussex Yeoman, a cat's spit from my house. Food quite nice in there, and in the bright sun the streets looking white and pretty and characterful. We sat looking across the road from the newly painted The Battle of Trafalgar. Then Mum and Mase left for the smoke, with only mildly scratched hands. It was great to get them down here.
Working on poems this afternoon. Had planned to go out and inflict them on somebody seeing as it is national poetry day, but felt too shattered, which was a shame.
Looking happily tonight at two paintings my mum has done of Skelton Yawngrave. They're smart.
Below found Calliope sleeping on her pack under a cushion on my gold sofa. Yes, I know I am sad.
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