The moon is hidden

Rain most of the day, and just as we were dropping off, distant thunder in the channel. I worked all day, doing the penultimate edit on my new story What's Inside. But by the end of the day I ended up doubting it, because it is written in the second person, which is highly unusual. I think this adds weirdness to what is trying to be a horror story. I think it works, but I'm not convinced an editor would be prepared to give it a punt. Perhaps this is a legacy of having done all that advertising work. I am writing the story as if it were happening to the reader.

Lorraine off to her personal trainer and seeing Penny. Matt the pond man came around and installed an additional plug for the pond to power the UV light in the filter. Standing with him in the rain for a bit. The pond seems clearer, and the fish seem happier too.

Went for a walk along the seafront, but it was raining enthusiastically. I suddenly felt very anxious too. Luckily I understand myself much better these days.  It is my usual pattern: stored anxiety that then stages an ambush long after the crisis itself is done. By the time I reached home I felt fine. 

Lorraine home late afternoon. She is very much into Wimbledon this year, having at last the luxury of a bit of time. We then watched Spain v France, the European semifinal which was an entertaining game. The Spanish deservedly edged it.

This evening, I went out to look for the new moon. Hidden again.