Out of sorts

Generally irritable and out of sorts. Thinking too much about Brexit. Industry leaders have already warned of sharp cutbacks in advertising and marketing budgets – i.e. where I make most of my money.  The news full today of Tony Blair and the Chilcot report. I do feel a tiny bit sorry for Blair, having eagerly become the US’s best pal after 9/11, he got stuck on the rollercoster unable to get off.  But I did march against the war along with millions of others and this made not a jot of difference.

Preparing at short notice to give a poetry reading tomorrow, as Siegfried had to pull out due to illness. Looking at all my poems and disliking them heartily, which happens from time to time. It’s preferable that this doesn’t hit you the day before a reading in the poetry café however. At least I can more easily spot the faults in my more recent work, which is constructive.  One of my new poems, called A Man From Atlantis however is something I will stand by.

Some work from my French friends today, and a conversation or two with Val about fleas.  Spoke to Matty too and there is some pitch work in the pipeline.  There is more work form various sources next week I think, so I am taking what I can. Need money for the holdiays, but our money won’t go far with the weak pound.  

I went to the cobbler with my favourite shoes but he said they were irreparable, walked there in my new boots however, which were comfortable, am breaking them or my feet in.  Very warm day. Anton and I are plotting a walk this Sunday.

Beth back after days of chaperoning a child on a superhero blockbuster shoot, looking tired. Lorraine off to pilates and Beth surprised her as she was a day early. We watched Wales get beaten by Portugal. Or rather I did, as Lorraine fell asleep and Beth went to bed very early. Wales have done brilliantly though. I sipped a meditative glass of PX sherry, Frasier style, and sent Lorraine to bed and followed her up there.