under another sun

Woke up this morning with the solution to the problem of a short story I have been rewriting called The Inheritor. My subconscious has been doing lots of this nocturnal sorting out for me. I simply rewrote the story today, and also sent off a proposal to a US agent about my children's book. My watch battery ran out  and I looked at my wrist 100 times, and I popped along to the gym. Chatted with Betty about her new business/acting wheeze she is starting with a pal. Really excited for her. In the evening down to the Grand Central for the launch of a new poetry magazine, called Finished Creatures edited by Jan Heritage. Lots of poet pals there, including Robin, Sarah, Stephen, Charlotte, Jeremy, Janet Sutherland, Catherine Smith, I also met Charlotte's colleague Lizzie who edits Viva Brighton. The readings were fine, but I didn't seem to be able to tune into it all tonight. Great to see everyone though. Charlotte, Sarah and I got chips afterwards and went our separate way...

A happy Friday. Working fairly productively this morning. Also had a couple of hours working on stuff for my agency pals in Chiswick, and sauntered into town for a haircut, as it was all getting a bit Art Garfunkley. In the evening off to Lewes to meet up with the Telltale & Friends posse, Robin, Sarah, Charlotte, Catherine Smith and Stephen Bone. A hugely enjoyable and altogethery evening in the lovely Lewes Arms catching up on everyone's news. It did lots to make me feel less alone and weird in this mad pursuit of writing.  A fair amount of drinking done too. Also reminded me that people had lots to cope with lately. Both Charlotte and Sarah's mothers had died last year, and life is full of challenges. I just felt I drew great strength from my fellow writers. Fond farewells, and Sarah and I hopped on the Brighton train, and I got off at London Road. Spoke to Lorraine, and scored a curry. Home at around 9:30 although it seemed much later due to being in the dead of win...

Finally sent off the manuscript Sin Cycle to the Poetry Business Competition, which is the preeminent poetry pamphlet competition. Good to send this off, if only that it frees me up to do other things. Like other poems. Off in the evening to Eastbourne. Walked down to London Road, where I met Sarah Barnsley and Marion Tracey on the train. Chugged off to Eastbourne talking about poems, and found the venue where Robin Houghton and Stephen Bone were about to launch their new pamphlets, 'All the relevant gods,' by Robin, and 'Plainsong' by Stephen. Robin worrying about the positioning of fairy lights when I arrived. Chose this moment to nip into a burger restaurant, where I had a chicken burger and left half of my fries, and we met Antony Mair and a pal. Sarah Barnsley and Antony were giving supporting readings and did really well. Several poetry pals in the audience including Charlotte, and Jeremy Page and Catherine Smith. Readings really good, everyone read well and ...

Felt  cheerful this morning still. Up and doing stuff of one kind or another. Even getting a cut and paste book rejection (from the large agent I sent the children's book to yesterday) didn't phase me. I think they were just bouncing that kind of book at the moment. Resilience. Put a chicken in the oven, and waited till Lorraine had got home, (Dawn was staying the night) before boofing off to Lewes to the John Harvey Tavern to a Needlewriters event to hear three poets: Jeremy Page, Mark Urbanowicz and Robert Seatter. Enjoyed the readings. Robert's was from The Book of Snow , a beautifully produced book mostly about snow and paper. He read very well too, so I bought the book. Jeremy read a short story which was quite funny, and about life on campus. I noticed a woman in the audience who I thought looked just like Caroline Lucas who, when she left, turned out to have been Caroline Lucas. Also enjoyed hanging out with my poet pals in general, and Robin, Sarah, Stephen ...

Train cancelled, and a slower journey in. Standing outside the tube entrance at Victoria station, looking about me at everyone standing patiently looking at their phones. I looked at the sky, because you could see a bit of it. Eventually allowed to shuffle sheep-like down to the platform. Reading We have always lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson, which I didn't manage to quite finish. I had read the first chapter to Lorraine a few times, but it was one of those that made her fall asleep. Quite like its American Gothic ways. From work, which is disorganised and it seems I am going to have to do loads of long hours soon, which I feel wouldn't be necessary if they were a little more organised. Then a slightly trying journey to Betterton Street, and the haven of the Poetry Cafe. Mum was already there, and all the poets, and Sarah Barnsley. Sat with Mum till it was time to get organised. Sarah Barnsley was hosting the evening, and in good spirits. She and Abigail Parry ar...

Lorraine's last day of term, which ended with a passion play, a success apparently. Off to Lewes, after a stonking early morning's writing. Met Robin and had a great chat with her in Cafe Nero about the future of Telltale, and just a general catch up. We also went around town dropping of posters for the Telltale reading in Lewes next month, and knocking on doors of people who put posters in their windows. Also bumped into Jeremy Page, editor of the Frogmore Papers, and Catherine Smith. Showing that Lewes is a place where you can't move for writers. Trained back to London Road, and paused for a veggie burger in the Open House and a read of Charles Olsen poems, before going home. A bit later  Dawn collected me, and we drove off to Worthing Cemetery where we met Lorraine and Helen, to attend Jan's funeral. A good ceremony, and her son Matt is a writer and delivered a lovely speech. Her daughter Laura was there too with her partner, as was Jan's elderly mother.  A m...

Working by 7:30 and a quick five hours work on freelance stuff, before I hared around cleaning the house and buying a few snacks. The AGM of Telltale poets was held today at Kenny Towers with Sarah Barnsley, Siegfried Baber, Catherine Smith, Robin and myself. The house not at its best with no carpet and so on, but never mind. Sonia zooming about and laughing conspiratorially with me before they came. AGM went on for several hours, with a full agenda and some highly-talkative people present. Catherine left, taking my specs with her, which we only found out later. Sieg had to zoom back to Bath, and Robin, Sarah and I went to the Preston Park Tavern for a cheeky drink. Just after Robin left Lorraine and Beth arrived, and we had supper when Sarah got the bus home. Very nice to be with Lorraine and Betty at the end of the week.  And relax.

Lorraine brought up tea and porridge for us first thing this morning. Then having got up I made Giannis more eggs and B. Not sure if he wanted them, but I forced them on him anyway. Much of the day devoted to driving myself quietly mad and going around in circles in the work I am doing. Went for a bit of a walk at lunchtime, which I thought might help. Returned to go around in circles in the afternoon to the point where I felt like pulling my hair out. Decided at the end of the day I was going to take a break from it, as the woods/trees conundrum was proving far too difficult. Walked down to the Red Roaster in the evening and watched some poets reading. Clare Best launching a small 'almost' pamphlet with a few illustrations by Michaela Ridgeway was the highlight for me. Still, nice to see some of the Lewes poetic posse of Robin, Charlotte, Clare, Stephen Bone and Catherine Smith and other poetic folks in attendance, and I had a nice chat with Marion Tracy, who I'd not p...

Managed to sleep for six hours so consequently felt far more alive. Taking care of business this morning and met Robin and Catherine Smith on the train to Victoria late this afternoon as we travelled up to the Poetry Cafe. I'm learning a lot from Catherine and Robin and how they go about being poets, Catherine's ability to critique is impressive. A bite to eat in the cafe, till Siegfried Baber arrived having travelled from Bath. I felt quite twitchy wondering if anyone was going to turn up on a working Wednesday in January, but we actually had a full house. Really good to see Rhona, who I'd not seen in person for many years, nor hear her read. She read from her latest book Ex-ville . Because Rhona was there, Nancy Mattson and Tammy Yoseloff, both old friends not seen for around 20 years came too, and it was great to see them, and made me feel as if I hadn't been entirely forgotten. My reading was good, and went well. I mixed some new work in with the old. I was foll...

Up to the smoke again. Saw a complete arch of a rainbow forming a magical gateway into London as the train approached from the south. I took this as a lucky omen. Joined the interminable meeting at 8:30. Most odd way to spend a week, as a fly on the wall with a vague remit, but having to take copious notes.  By agreement, I slipped off early and headed for Victoria. By chance the travel Gods were at their most benign (apart from leaving my old anorak on the train) and I got home, met Lorraine, changed and we jumped into a taxi to the Cameron Gallery in Hove. Here met Robin and Nick. A lovely venue. When I arrived at the venue, I opened my specs case to find it empty necessitating the borrowing of Nick's glasses which happily were okay. The couple who owned it were pleasant and helpful - and the art there was great too. We set up, and people drifted in, enjoyed twice as much bubbly as the Lewes crowd. Catherine Pope came, Anton, Rosie, and John coming to his first poetry reading...

Seeking tranquility today and to get myself in the right frame of mind for The Nightwork pamphlet launch this evening. After running through what I had intended to read, I felt the Kenny pipes rasping somewhat as my throat has been sore for a few days. I drank loads of water, however, and this seemed to do the trick and it was much improved by the evening, and Beth suggested emergency remedies of steam baths etc. if it got serious. Like the literary Titan I am, I spent my afternoon waiting for a small roofer, who arrived late and sporting many tattoos of boxers and a humorous hinge in the crease of his arm. Making a meal of the work, he clambered about on the roof and hammered at the lead flashing and did other apparently helpful things 'for nothing'. These he described in tiresome detail. He relieved me of a decent chunk of cash, but did not receive the tip he also requested. Worse, he garbled and looked at his son when he was talking to me so I could only undersand part of...