Full moon and foxes Woken up at an early hour by a crashing about and strange yelps in my front patch of garden. Calliope looking alarmed on the end of my bed. Leapt up as someone had recently kicked at some trellising. Imagine my surprise when I saw two urban* foxes on my doorstep. I lent out of my window clapping, and one made off through the, now clearly fox-made, hole in the trellising. I think the filthy beasts had the effrontery to be breeding too. On my doorstep. Needled three times this morning in an attempt to get blood. Nurse apologetic but kept on jabbin'. Luckily despite being a hysteric and a hypochondriac I seem to be okay about having blood taken. Then home working on my new poems for a bit before shooting off up to the smoke on a double mission. First off to the South Bank to drop of a brace of Guernsey Doubles into the National Poetry Library, and spend a couple of hours reading through the latest poetry magazines. Curiously heartened by the idea-free, emotionless...