Needlewriters

 Mum received another call this morning, but simply put the phone down. Bastards. 

A day at home, for Lorraine and me. I had a brief saunter to the shops and then along by the sea. Quite nippy. Off to Needlewriters in the evening. Met Robin at Lewes Station. Clare Best and Jeremy reading tonight, along with another poet called Pratiba Castle, whose work was fine but not for me as I am learning to say these days.

Clare on good form, reading her excellent poetry in an excellent fashion. Jeremy reading some prose from his London Calling book, which I liked quite a bit when it was published a few years ago. Of my poet friends, there were Stephen, Charlotte, Janet, Catherine Smith and others. Also Callum was there sitting next to me. He had just been to see Will and I arranged to go with him next time. Will is now in Lewes. A cheery interlude, but I made off home quite quickly, partly to be at home with Lorraine and watch The Traitors again.  Callum gave me and Robin a lift to the station, and I was home rapidly.

The Needlewriters quite full tonight, but these snaps do the place nor their subjects any justice. Above Clare, and below Jeremy.