Turning a corner

A lovely card today from Janet Caulfield, thanking me for choosing her painting and subequently buying it. She said it was a big boost to her confidence. The painting fits in so well with what I am writing about at the moment, that I should be thanking her.

Feeling decidedly more on the ball at last. Luckily so I interviewed a rather excellent American poet, Danez Smith, this afternoon over in Minnesota. I really liked them (Danez goes by they/them pronouns) and hopefully our conversation will turn into good interview when edited. Very relieved to get that one in the bag, for some reason it turned into a big deal in my head, and feeling washed out still made me a bit apprehensive.

Lorraine much more energetic too although in danger of over doing it, in a  bit of a tidying frenzy, and playing piano and generally getting busy. She made sourdough for the pizza bases, and a tomato sauce for the tomatoey stuff, and she led the making of pizzas this evening, using olives and anchovies and capers and goats cheese and onions and yellow pepper and chilli. All rather good. 

Toby called, sounding more relaxed than of late, settling in a bit, and having found a gym. He was in a bar around the corner last night to listen to the debate between Trump and Harris, and curious how this might go down with the people in the bar. Thankfully Harris did well against the orange narcissist, who at one point was perpetrating the lunacy that immigrants from Haiti were eating other people's pet dogs and cats in Springfield.

A slightly longer mooch down to the sea this afternoon. I ended up with seven thousand paces today, which is a bit more like it. Hopefully it won't be too long before I am back in the gym.

Toby's shot of being in a DC bar watching the debate; on the way to the sea again; and a couple of pizzas. Not yet at Anton's standards, but highly edible.