under another sun

Up early, as Lorraine left with Beth at seven. I got up shortly after. Wrote for an hour or so, then faffed about preparing for talking to Peter Daniels at 11. Nice to meet him again for the first time in decades. He was associated with the Oscars, who were a pioneering gay writers group in London in the late 80s and 90s - and who knew and published my friend Tim Gallagher.  At noon Lorraine was back, Beth's pregnancy blood sugar tests all good. Lorraine off this afternoon to her personal trainer. I went for an over two hour walk around the north part of town, and walking at the edge of flinty-looking fields ending up in Seaford Cemetery. I love cemetery for some reason. There commonwealth graves there too -- West Indian soldiers who died in World War One, and graves with daffodils bursting out of them, and children's graves planted in circles. As I did so, I managed to listen to the whole of the short novel by Alan Garner called Treacle Walker . Garner's story is rich in l...

So a chirpy start to the day, having made a few decisions overnight about various writerly businesses. Lorraine off this morning in her gym clothes to a doctor's appointment, and then off to her personal trainer and to spend some time with Sarah in Bolney.  I meanwhile, got to work relishing the idea of a writing day, and felt in the mood to make great strides. I broke off some rather lofty contemplations, to clean the cat litter tray as the cats were moaning. We have this in the main bathroom at the moment, and after I manfully changed the befouled litter, and washed the tray in the bath and mopped the floor, I was just adding the last few lumps of litter in and my bastard back went into a vile spasm right across my lower back. As I stood clutching the bannister, Amanda came out from decorating. I was able to move for a while, and I always think continuing to move a good thing. I spoke to Mum later in the day. Otherwise I kept a low profile as my back was becoming increasingly uns...

Working on my writing this morning, and getting together interview notes. A longish walk this afternoon, and I finished listening to an Audiobook Where Shall We Run To by Alan Garner, a writer I loved as a child, and who is still going. Interesting as a piece of history, and a fragment of the formative experiences up in Alderly Edge that shaped him as he went to school during the Second World War. He talked about 'the vaccies' who were evacuee children. He said there were some from Guernsey where he was at school. The one grinding note was he said they came from Torreville school, instead of Torteval school. Gah. I hate how much a tiny mistake like this can rankle. But an interesting short book. Anyway, my walk was splendid, up the side paths of Seaford Head, building my confidence and joining the dots even more. Also mooched along the seafront. A gorgeous day.  Home and Lorraine came back this evening. All well. A black and white photos sort of day, due to the lovely clouds, ...

So up, personally feeling slightly sadder and wiser after generous amounts of wine the night before. I had a good night’s sleep, and a welcome shower and any sadness and wisdom quickly evaporated. Cheery chats with Lesley again, and Jeremy who ducked out between teleconferences. A croissant breakfast and cups of tea in the garden, which was very nice, and then back into the car again. I'd really enjoyed our short stay, and getting to know Lesley and Jeremy better.  Then off to Alderley Edge. And our Alan Garner pilgrimage. Alan Garner is a fabulous children’s writer, whose books The Wierdstone of Brisingamen, The Moon of Gomrath, Elidor and The Owl Service , I all read as a child, as had Lorraine. The first two of his books were set around Alderley Edge, is a place that has lived in my imagination for decades. So strange to go there. We drove from Diggle through some gorgeous landscape and then down into some unlovely outskirts of Manchester. Alderly Edge itself is a village tha...

So the start of another great northward journey, packing the car full of all kinds of clothes, some for another wedding and bidding farewell to Betty. Most drives from Brighton are Northwards of course, a southward drive would get rapidly a bit too briny. Lorraine and I began listening to a bit of The Weirdstone of Brisingamen by Alan Garner on audiobook in preparation for visiting Alderley Edge. We had both read it as children. I have read it since then too.  First stop, Edgware. Where we spent some time with Mum and Mason. At tea time Lorraine drove us off to Bushey where we celebrated Mason’s birthday in The Horse and Chains, a pleasant gastropub with good food. We had a big mixed starter, and then our own courses. Mas had a big piece of lamb, so big that we had to take some of it home in silver paper, a lamb grenade shape. Home and we drank some bubbly and chatted till the call of bed grew strong. Mum gave me a box file full containing stories and a play written by Al...

So the flu drags on, giving us time to ruefully contrast what most people call 'a flu' with the real thing. We ventured outside though, for the first time since Christmas Eve. Where were the walls? Where was the ceiling? It was very strange. To the supermarket and despite Lorraine's repeated dizzy spells, we managed to load up the car with essentials and get home. Spent the afternoon recovering wanly from these exertions. We'd bought the fixings for a fisherman's pie and from these Lorraine constructed a potatoey pie marvel. In the evening the streamy, sneezing returned in full force and, absurdly, one violent sneeze whiplashed my neck so badly that I got agonising pains spreading across my shoulders and now have a sore neck too. Otherwise a melee of TV, podcasts, and listening to Boneland by Alan Garner, as an audiobook. A challenging read, which is an adult book, which is a fifty years on sequel from Garner's Children's books The Weirdstone of Brisin...

Permission to flop Snuffling on my way down from Anton's house the night before. Woke up disoriented and feverish in the middle of the night, and read for an hour and a half. Gave myself the day off, sitting on the sofa reading Alan Garner's first two books The Wierdstone of Brisingamen , and then half of The Moon of Gomrath . These children's books are rooted in Norse, Celtic and Arthurian legends, which creates a world that overlaps somewhat with Tolkien's. It has been decades since I read them, and they are nicely crafted. Garner's reputation deserves to be much greater: there are moments of great flair and real rootedness in Cheshire. Will re-read Elidor again next, I remember this one far more clearly as it is set largely in Manchester. The juxtaposition of things like bus conductors, iron railings, TVs with a disturbing magic from the past is wonderful. Normally a coldy bug corresponds with working in London, or having a surfeit of work, it was an absolute lux...