under another sun

A storming day of writing. Surging forward with three new poems for a collection, provisionally called The slow tsunami, which is mainly about time. I am trying to have it ready fast enough to the International poetry book and pamphlet competition the end of November. A deadline is always useful. In the afternoon I saw my iPhone had spontaneously given up the ghost. Took it to the Orange shop, and a bloke there simply pressed both its buttons at once and it restarted. Apparently iPhones do this once in a while, 'because they are like computers'. Baffling. But I walked away happy. Went to my old magic cafe, and worked more on my poems. I can't believe how hungry I am for this work. Then home. Lorraine out tonight, so I simply worked more on my poems till she returned, gave her a glass of wine and chatted. Noticed just before I went to bed that one of my angel fish died suddenly. Felt sad about this, as I've had it for four or five years.

The politics of angels Bought the unspeakable Daily Mail this morning, to check a small press ad I'd written in it about Brittany. Some monkey had broken the headline overnight, however, by adding an unneccesary word. Only a small job, but as a writer it galls. Still feeling very sluggish and enervated but slogging steadily to the end of Skelton Yawngrave, and my mind buzzing with how to approach the Guernsey project. My brooding only broken by a crocodile of children walking past in the Twitten, and as I glanced out of my study window I saw Klaudia was one of them. Made me feel sentimental to see my Goddaughter walk past apparently so carefree, along with lots of other five-year-olds holding hands. Lorraine told me today that she has asked some teachers and children to read Skelton which is fab. She is a great boon. Popped up the road to Anna and Anton's house to see Christian and Jane, and meet their new baby Ava who has an endearingly imperious expression, and is the spit o...

Leopard angels Up at seven, and wrote a lot of my Guernsey presentation, which made me feel rather big and clever. Slept a good deal on the gold sofa this afternoon, having worked like a dog all week. Lorraine drove me to buy four fishes for my new aquarium. I spotted some leopard angels, which have a delicate lacy pattern. Very pretty they are too. Having introduced them to my new heavily planted tank, they hid out of sight, only making a few cat tormented forays into open water. But it felt very good to be setting up an aquarium again. I've kept fish off and on since I was ten or eleven and I have always felt that there is something almost spiritual about them. Angel fish move in such a stately restful way. Calliope, meanwhile, was infurated by them, snapping her teeth at them, and pawing the glass. Lorraine and I had a slugfest, she cooked and I did nothing and felt a good deal better for it. Below Calliope and an angel.