under another sun

It seems we have found a buyer for our house. Several consultations with my lovely Lorraine during the day about this. Otherwise a day at work. Find I am not enjoying work so much lately, being constantly overwhelmed by a desire to go on a holiday, which won't be there for a while, matched with trying to make sense of a patchy brief. I enjoyed, however, a few minutes in the lunchtime oasis of the newly-refurbished Folyes, where I bought a book by French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The World of Perception, which were lectures he gave on public radio. Just how I like my philosophy books, slim and crammed with ideas simply expressed. Home and found my new niece Claudia cooking a chicken and bell pepper curry with Lorraine. I ate well and watched the first half of a disappointing game between Brazil and Mexico, their faces lit up by screens playing candy crush, and then we went off for a walk in the park. Saw some bats, which Claudia said she had never seen before, and smel...

Off this morning up to the smoke again, reading a few poems by Simon Armitage. He will never be my favourite poet, but some of the poems are nicely done. Raining in Victoria when I got there. A day of slogging, albeit on interesting work. Slipped off to buy a copy of The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner to continue with my American reading. Foyles is far too close not to lurk there at lunch. Otherwise not much to report. The cover of The Nightwork has been slightly altered -- the mysterious arms on it have disappeared. Some correspondence with Robin about this. Also a cyberchat with Mandy in New Zealand who is now going it alone on her games company. Home listening to podcasts and reading Faulkner. A nice evening at home. Lorraine cooking baked sardines which were rather tasty.

Dire night's sleep, and back to work and off to The Smoke. A pleasant enough day. Off to Foyles again at lunchtime to browse the business section briefly. So much bunk and dullness. Listening to podcasts and so on on the train. Home slightly late, and Lorraine later having been at a school governor's meeting. Spoke to Mum who has been to Alex's funeral today.  Good for her to get it over with, but short on laughs.

Up to London again. Working on the train on poems this morning, trying to shuffle the poems of The Nightwork pamphlet into some kind of order as the deadline for getting the stuff ready for the pamphlet is looming. A happy day's work and I went to Foyles, which was a treasure trove for books when I was a lad.  I came out with four books, the new Forward Anthology of poetry, a first collection by a poet called Tara Bergin which looked quite interesting,  and Fictions by Borges which I heard being discussed on Radio 4. Reading my final purchase, the ubiquitous Simon Armitage's Selected Poems . I have had a bit of a stupid prejudice against his work till now and I found myself mildly enjoying the dozen or so poems I read. Great to be home and not have to do more work. Lorraine had cooked a chicken tagine which was full of lemony goodness, and we relaxed in front of Masterchef before taking a walk in the park after dark too. The air was thick with pollen, and even I found mys...