Numbed by good news

So off to Hampstead to see Mum and Toby. Bimbling as usual on the train and reading a couple of stories by the Canadian painter Emily Carr. Imagine my surprise when I looked at my phone when the train emerged from the the tunnel at  St Pancras, to see an email from Wolfgang accepting my full poetry MS One Day Forever for publication. I called Lorraine walking up from West Hampstead, she was really happy for me. It did not feel real at all, and still doesn't. I felt cautiously pleased, but was strangely unable to be entirely gleeful after achieving such a long-held ambition. For me the news is so momentous, it's taking me a while to get my head around it.

Sauntered up the hill in good spirits to find Mum and Toby at Hampstead tube station, and we crept round to The White Bear, where I shared my good news. Lovely that I could do that with them. Otherwise, Mum pleased that we were both there to chat to, and she had her usual pea and lovage soup in what is now her favourite pub. We looked for the Parson, who disappointingly did not show. Toby showed me photos of a cheery Danny and Heidi in Aberystwyth, and film of a jazz band in a pub they'd visited. The Polish woman who runs the pub introduced herself to Toby, saying, pointing at Mum and me, 'I know this lovely couple', the words every son wants to hear. 

A sad undercurrent as Toby was leaving, and I gave him a little present for Romy that Lorraine had made. Fond farewells at Hampstead, a hug with Toby and promises to see Mum soon to sort her taxes out and so on.

I went home via Brighton, due to train times, and popped out and had a fortuitous cheeky with Anton in the Evening Star, who was just popping out to the supermarket anyway, so wouldn't be too long away from home. Great to see him, and he was very pleased for me when I told him about the book. He enjoyed the fact it had an Austrian connection. He told me about his quest for a Polish passport, which has now overcome a bureaucratic hurdle and might be really useful after the Brexit disaster.

Just a swift beer, then back on the train where Lorraine and Helen were deep in conversation, and sharing a bottle of bubbly. Both very happy for me. I left them to it, they have so much to say to one another it's brilliant, and retired to my study still unable to shake the feeling of unreality.  What a day.  

And on such a day, what photo did I take? A picture of the Salts, its grass browned out by the endless heatwave, taken from the platform at Seaford Station this morning.