under another sun

Woke up the news that a twenty year old had tried to shoot Trump from afar, and had nicked his ear, Trump having moved his head slightly, and then killed a person in Trump's audience with another shot, before he himself was killed. Trump had the astonishing presence of mind to use the moment as political capital, and there is an amazing, election-winning photo of him blooded, and pumping his tiny fist with the inevitable Old Glory in shot. A historic photograph. The maga people taking this as proof that God wants Trump to lead America.  Then I went into the loft, and found a roll of carpet that matched our bedroom. We cut out the aromatic patch where Brian has repeatedly offended. We will buy a new carpet, but a strip of the same carpet will do for now. Brian has now been banished in perpetuity to the kitchen at night and only in other places supervised during the day, and never in the bedroom. This means Calliope has too.  Otherwise a watching sport day at Kenny Towers. Pat a...

Lorraine off to Ashford this morning, after going to Rhyme Time. I spent time working on the What's Inside story, having regained faith in it. A nice note from Diana at Mariscat Press about the sampler publication some of my poems are in, which will be published early Autumn. This afternoon I spent two hours talking with Charlotte and the other Understorians Marilyn, Emma and Linda. Soon after I'd begun this little group a few months ago, I learned that Marilyn, who I'd just met, will be published in the same Mariscat sampler.   I mooched into Brighton this evening to meet Mark and Peter in the Basketmakers. Sat there eating wasabi peanuts and shooting the breeze for quite some time. The England and Netherlands semifinal besieging other pubs, but not in Baskets. Mark and Peter both shared zero interest in the footie. Off for a decentish pizza at Franco Manca.  Could tell by the roar we could hear in pizzeria that England had won. Home on the train with Mark, and then home....

Off to Pulborough village this evening. Lorraine picked up Brian and Yvonne (and Marley the dog) and drove off to Sally and Marek's place -- where we met Eliza Sally's daughter. Patrick and Adele arrived shortly afterwards. First business was watching England beat Switzerland in a penalty shootout. England's penalties immaculate, surprisingly, and Ivan Toney, who plays for Brentford, did his special technique of shooting while holding the goalkeeper's gaze and not looking at the net at all. Sally and Marek have a lovely home. Sally has made the walls dark and lovely, covered in paintings. And the river Arun runs at the bottom of their sloping garden.  A curry ordered in, and we sat about drinking and making merry, while Sally and Marek's three dogs, and Marley generally scampering about. Sally has a new puppy called Weasel, and it was therefor impossible for me not to like this dog. One of the dogs, called Scout, joined in the singing once Patrick had picked up a gu...

A relaxed Sunday. Doing some recording with Robin at ten this morning. Then off at lunchtime to look at a couple of local gardens that were open, up on Firle Road. One was Palo and Martin's -- and they have a beautiful garden, and some of the rooms had been cleared to show Palo's art off in. Nice to chat to Palo and Martin especially about the garden which was also a voyage for the nose past all kinds of scented plants. We went next door, which was also an open garden, and this had magical ponds hidden under trees and lined with big mossy stones and ferns.  Home again, via a spot of shopping at Morrisons, and then did some bits in our own garden before settling down to watch England fluke a win, drawing level in injury time, and then score in extra time. We beat the mighty Slovakia. Spoke to Mum during half time. She wasn't watching it of course.  Lorraine had made a delicious chicken pie, with some veggies from our garden -- chard Lorraine picked and some potatoes I'd ...

What a scorcher. I worked this morning on poems and sent a mad brain jazz idea to Robin, and proofed a couple of poems going out in a magazine called Cerasus -- only the second edition, and I was surprised by its excellence when I saw the draft pdf.  Had a chat with Mum too.  When Lorraine came back from her trainer,  I painted varnish on two external surfaces. Then we spent the afternoon outside, I read my book Metaphors of Memory , by Douwe Draaisma, which is as its subtitle says is A history of ideas about the mind. I have been reading this for perhaps two years now, and still haven't finished. But it is absolutely central to the stuff that preoccupies me at the moment. Also Dandelion Wine , by Ray Bradbury. I read this years ago -- but decided to revisit it, principally because it is so nostalgic and autobiographical, I want to delve more into its technique. In the introduction he writes that at an early stage of his writing, he taped the phrase don't think where he w...

Another fine frosty morning. I mooched off to buy some bread first thing, then a bit of light tidying before before Penny and Steve called around, looked at the house sans boxes, and had coffee. As we left for town, we spoke to David next door. His front garden is now a cheery tableaux of assorted reindeers, a snowman a polar bear and Christmas trees and lots of other lights.  After a short walk by the sea, we went into Amy's kitchen. Penny specified she didn't want it spicy, and I said I liked spices. Penny's was red hot with chilli and mine was as mild mannered. Nevertheless really tasty. Penny refusing to make a fuss about the her meal.  After fond farewells, Lorraine and I made our way to the Crypt where we met up with Steve and Robin and Nick for the open mic poetry reading, with a guest poet called Louise Taylor who Robin knew who is a performance poet who delivered poems about food, especially cake, and the uselessness of men. The Seahaven open mic poets were often i...

A massive sort out of wardrobes today, which was extremely cathartic. Lorraine positively happy today, in the knowledge there would be no nasty work surprises tomorrow or indeed ever again.   Alongside dead sea scrolls and the skeletons of assorted Narnians we discovered that I had a new pair of black jeans and an unworn pair of stylish blue shorts. Lorraine had a serious quantity of clothes. She is going to sell or give to charity some that remind her too much of work. Having cleared away lots of clothes, and vacuum packed (this a Beth idea) winter clothes we have now lots of space. Vacuum packing is ace. You put it all into a bag with a hole in it, attach your vacuum cleaner and suck all the air out of it, reducing its volume massively. Great for storage. As I had all this new shelf space, I ordered some holiday teeshirts and some German ear plugs for swimming. My ears react violently to water and I want to swim lots in Greece.  Still run down, with dubious guts so I di...

Lorraine, Beth and I off to Kent to see Pat and Maureen. Good to catch up with all of Betty's news in the car. Among other things she has taken to embroidery and made a lovely thing for Maureen, pictured below by tracing a letter from her laptop screen and then ornamenting it. Maureen very chuffed with it. After a tasty lunch of chicken salad, and a delicious apple and apricot pie which Maureen said she made for me, we all settled down to watch the Men's Final at Wimbledon. Pat and Maureen love their tennis. It was a good game between Djokovic and Berrettini. Both players were interviewed after the game, and they both were very sportsmanlike and complimented the other player handsomely after Djokovic ground out a win. Good to see a bit of decency. Lorraine drove us home in time for European Cup Final between England and Italy.  England scored in the second minute, but it was all tense and downhill from there. After over two hours of stress it ended with England losing on penalt...

Work from eight. A bit later, presented to strategists, creative director and  two suits, a plonkingly negative and unimaginative woman who hated the creative work we had done, as it wasn't the kind of work they usually do for the client (the same client they are about to lose because of soulless predictable creative). How this person is employed by a creative agency is a genuine mystery. As we began presenting Keith texted me to say that he 'could not be fucked to talk to these idiots', so I had to do it. The other was a charming geezer who had apparently stepped out of a time machine having entered it in 1992, and had not yet had a chance to catch up on how marketing and advertising has moved on since then.  I told them they were making me feel like the UK in the Eurovision song contest, and amazingly they liked one of our ideas as 'a wild card' to take into the pitch.  After the rest of this delightful day, walked up to the Hillfort, then came home and cooked. We...

Hard day's work with Keith. Brain dead and extremely tired by the end of the day. A quick saunter a couple of times in the day, but feeling underpowered.   However before then, Lorraine, Jade and I watched England squeak a 2-0 win over Germany. The Germans our usual nemesis in such competitions, but this time two late goals from Stirling and Kane (at last) sorting it.  Jade squeaking with excitement. I enjoyed it but felt a bit brain dead. Anton texted me asking which team I was supporting, a reference to the German occupation of Guernsey in WW2.   After the game a long chat with the Tobster, who had finished school today, and is taking next year as a sabbatical. Freedom. But perhaps not ideal conditions for it. Tobs pleased by the game too.  To bed fairly early.  

Up fairly early for us on a Sunday. A leisurely breakfast (tomatoes and a piece of bacon on chewy brown toast as you asked). I called Mum and arranged to see her next week, and we made plans for a picnic on the beach later on. However, there was some call to do with the school, and some of the children had been exposed in a club outside school to people with confirmed tests, which plunged Lorraine into a series of phone calls and emailing parents and so on. While Lorraine was doing this, Jade and I watched the England game where they managed to beat Croatia one nil. The goal scored by Raheem Stirling, who had went to the school in Wembley I went to (decades later obviously) who revelled in scoring in his 'back garden'. The admirable Stirling was awarded an MBE this week too. More power to him.  Meanwhile Boris Johnson and his crew making himself and our country look idiotic at the G7 in Cornwall. His Brexity side-kick for the event, David Frost, was wearing union jack socks. Cr...

Another nocturnal frog horror thanks to Calliope. Up early to let Alex the tiler in, who quickly found a chipped corner of the second shower tray, so the tray must be replaced yet again. This now pushes the whole job deep into next week, the disruption continues. Progress in any direction feels hard at the moment. I left home at five and walked up to Anton's house to watch England play Croatia. Anne very exercised by having sat through an endless Roger Federer game at Wimbledon, which Federer lost. Anton preparing food and excellent burgers with homemade salsa and blue cheese dip, which we ate in the second half of the game, which went on to extra time. Lorraine arrived shortly after England had scored their early goal by the consistently excellent Kieran Trippier. Sadly, however, football is not coming home. England lost a close match, after a promising start. Overall England had done well and played with heartening freedom and with more teamwork than has been since 1990. N...

Lorraine somewhat worn out this morning. Another scorcher. I felt curiously invigorated, and got up and bought bread and took Lorraine breakfast, and then got up again and cleaned the kitchen, mopped floors and hoovered. Then the rest of the day was given over to sloth and football. Anton came around and we three ate salty snacks, drank some beer and watched England beat Sweden, to secure them a spot in the World Cup semi-finals, the first time since 1990. Weirdly, the English seemed to be having fun and expressing themselves, and had a comfortable 2-0 win. Gareth Southgate is an excellent manager. I really want Raheem Stirling to score a goal, because he went to my old school in Wembley, and his hesitancy in an England shirt in front of goal is so obviously a psychological glitch. He sends fear into the hearts of the opposing defence with dribbling and darting runs. One goal from him will unleash a torrent. Enjoyed having Anton round, and we seemed to drink quite a lot of beer, b...

Last day before the plumbers arrive. Email working today, as I will need to be on hand for workmen for the next few days, a long walk this morning. Then lots of tiny tasks such as proofing my poem War diary in 1/72 scale, replied to my accountants, chase an unpaid invoice and other tiny tasks. A longish call with Janet, understandably feeling sad after her sister's death. I arranged to go around to see her next week. Finished The Anatomy Lesson , and begrudgingly admire it. Next up  from Roth is  Portnoy's Complaint,  but only after I finish several other books. I consulted the I Ching this afternoon, which I have not done for some time. It gave me the most positive reading I have ever had from it over several decades. Irrational thought it is, I felt quite boosted by it. Just because something is irrational, doesn't mean it is meaningless. Football this evening, England taking on Colombia, and amazingly enough beating them in the penalty shoot out. It was a...

Another scorcher, and peace reigned in Kenny towers for the first time in what seemed like ages. Drank coffee and wrote poems on the new and beautiful decking, blessing Clem's cotton socks as I did so.  In the afternoon I walked into the big woods above Stanmer Park, right at the edge of town. I followed the path out onto the downs for a bit too. Quite a strong breeze up there too.  Felt peaceful and at one with myself in the woods. I was listening to a new audiobook by Philip Roth, having not read any of his work before. But I soon took my headphones out in the wood, and listened to the wind in the trees. The woodland floor cracked due to the heatwave and drought. Looking down on Brighton from what seemed afar was good too. I just seem to be in an interlude in my life where I am reappraising everything, and having a mental spring clean, it's easy to spot the things that aren't working in my own practise, but the challenge now is the do things differently. Home having w...

Got up and made tea and took my still-recovering wifey tea and breakfast in bed. Got up in time to watch England play Panama in the world cup. Had heard people say that Panama were exactly the kind of team England struggle with,  but by half-time, and England up 5-0, the pundits were all saying how Panama were like a non-league team. In-ger-land ran out out winners 6-1, the first time that England had scored more than four goals in a world cup before. This done, and a salad and hummus lunch consumed, Lorraine had to turn to school work. I went out and did quite a long walk. I have now learned how to thread my route through nearby woods and cross over the M27 into a big wood, which I walked about in today for the first time, while listening to my audiobook of The Road To Wigan Pier , by George Orwell, and there is a quality to his writing that is brittler than I'd noticed before. A cloudless day, and I felt happy to be outside and walking in woods, and even enjoyed the more expo...

Lorraine in no shape for work today. I generally felt her forehead, now not so alarmingly hot as before, and she looks much brighter. I made sure she was regularly smoothed, fed and watered etc. while quietly amassing brownie points. Otherwise working through the big list of things to rethink, and also entered the  Sin Cycle manuscript in another competition.  Also went into town to collect a prescription, and have my hair cut. A nice chat in the barbers. Tonight it was England's first match against the mighty Tunisians. Shockingly England played excellently in the opening spell, and squandered a dozen chances before a dodgy penalty for Tunisia meant that the score was level at half time. An excruciating second half where England looked stodgy, bereft of ideas, with penalty shouts ignored, they started reaching for the self-destruct button, when Harry Kane scored a last minute winner.  A nice, if yawny, chat with Mum then, whose relations with her pal Pat hav...

Lorraine dropped me off at the station this morning, then up to London. Working on my French stuff in the train as it delayed its way up to London. Full day at work, working through lunch. Thank goodness I am working with Fernanda at the moment, which makes the days fairly easy. A moment of respite looking down on the trees of Tavistock Square, talking about photography with her. Mentioned Pete Caton, who was in Chad with me, and he messaged me for the first time every about five minutes after. Very strange. Then home again, relaxing on the delayed train home. Lorraine had cooked and we had supper together. As I got home England were playing the mighty Iceland, and it was already 1-1. Soon Iceland scored another goal. I worked from there on the French stuff,  before coming downstairs to see the final whistle and England's most embarrassing ever loss. Coming after Brexit, the loss of a football came seemed small fry. But there was something in a bewildering loss, the immediate man...

An early start in teeming rain. Lorraine drove me to Brighton station hideously early, where I bought a travel card to St Pancras, but due to various cancellations, got an early train to Victoria and caught a bus instead. Crossed Russel Squeare in the rain, and then popped into Starbucks below the office for breakfast. Left in reception for ages, watching the unfriendly receptionists service their facebook accounts. Loads of new people there since I last worked in Tavistock Square, but a few old friends. Slug who called me in to work on the pitch was on holiday. Karam is imminently about to be a father. And Fernanda who I will be working with had a gall bladder operation last week.   No brief however, so spent the morning idling a bit. Managed to follow up on Island Review about my poem, which they accepted about a year ago. Their reply to me must have gone astray, and rather embarrassingly they had published it last week.  Nice to see The Remembering Cliffs get a breath...

Penultimate steroids day. Scarily dark and paranoid thoughts. Checking the patient information leaflet it said that psychological problems could start right away. Found things difficult to cope with, despite Lorraine and I simply going to a plant nursery and doing bits at home. Still there was football, Engerland justly being put out of the Euros by Italy, after a long drawn out talent-free resistance to the Italian's silky skills.