under another sun

A couple of walks this afternoon, the second of them in and around the hill fort. A glorious day. While doing so I was sliding back and forth in time while listening to the end of  The Time Machine , which I had first read it when I was about twelve. I'm not sure if I have read it much after that. Lots I had forgotten, an interesting and influential story. Worked otherwise endlessly editing my own story. I have accepted this is going to take a while, but I feel certain now I am improving the story as I work, which is a good feeling. Based on comments from the editor, I have looked for similar problems in the text and have found them. Fixing these is really making the story sing. Slow but good work. Broke off to watch the second half of a documentary about the rise of NeoCon Fascism in the USA, and those who oppose it. My story -- against that sort of thing -- is well timed I think. Salad tonight. I weighed myself and am still losing weight which is good. Lorraine having a trick...

Small improvements today. I managed make it down the road to buy some bread, plus I hobbled in town to drop off a prescription after Lorraine had given me a lift, and even conducting a light spot of horny handed son of the soil gardening. Also discussing some work options that may be opening up for Lorraine. Working on a new poem based on the H.G. Wells story The door in the wall, which is working out quite promisingly. This is the story by Wells that I always remember, and I was reading on the internet that critics now are saying it was his best story. I'd tried to write one on this subject before, but this is a good deal better. And also re-editing the marketing book for kindle. But there is a lot to be done. Beth returned from her travels looking slightly brown and relaxed. She has a audition in London to look forward to next week. Gorgeous sunset views from our back garden.

Up just before six today, to the welcome news that Obama had been re-elected in the US presidential election. Lorraine dropped me and my case at Brighton station, before driving off to work. Felt sad she wasn’t coming with me. Luckily, a completely uneventful journey followed, as I was feeling curiously stressed. The morning was misty, but the twin-engined prop climbed up into the blue and I had a smooth ride to Guernsey above a blanket of low-altitude cloud that covered the channel. Nice local cab driver, in whose cab I managed to drop my wallet giving me a dodgy few seconds of pocket patting before it was recovered standing outside La Barbarie. I had arrived early, but they checked me in anyway, and I was given the keys to the apartment. Arrived at La Croix Guerin café, ready for a large breakfast, smearing the buttercup yellow Guernsey butter on my toast and gulping my first cup of tea of the day. These hungrily engulfed, I set off for a walk. First, I paid my respects to L...