Uphill

Drained and throaty, with sources of joy difficult to locate. A rainy cold day, so even a cup of tea in the garden precluded. Two poetry manuscripts back. And work all uphill due to low energy and motivation.

Giving up the work ghost at six, I sat chatting with Beth in the kitchen till Lorraine got back from work and fell asleep heavily on the sofa as she has had a hard week and a sore throat for all of it. Beth cooked for us and John, who came around after a rehearsal. He has a gig in the Northern Lights tomorrow night, but we have all been banned from attending as it is their first one.

He has to write an essay on an album from a musician from the 60s or 70s, and we listened to Nina Simone's Nina Simone and Piano! as a possible candidate. It's a strange album, but I love her version of I get along with out you very well (except some times) which makes me want to sob and tear at my own clothes.

Retrieved Lorraine from the sofa and went to bed early.

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