Getting cracking
Another night of not sleeping. Determined this morning to strive for discipline, despite having matchstick eyes. The first four hours dedicated to creative work, as I am unable to think of anything I'd rather be doing that reading and writing poems at the moment - such is the result of hearing fantastic poets last night. Turns out David Harsent won, which I wasn't expecting but thoroughly deserved. I personally got down the start of something or other. In the afternoon walked through the park and down to the bank, after ten minutes in there exited into a deluge. From London Road up to see Janet and Ken, where I arrived sodden. A chat and cup of tea with them, discussing the Charlie Hebdo business, and the colours that Janet opts for when making fabrics and other diverse subjects before heading off to the back crackers in Kemptown. Given a painful going over which involved muscle releasing too, including the jabbing of thumbs to the most hurty spots, stretches and crackings. H...