under another sun

Up early and was collected outside by Brian shortly after eight, with Marley in the boot. Brian had already been swimming in the sea and was generally glowing. We went to Friston forest and had a lovely walk through the trees deep in discussion about all kinds of things. We paused at the place where you can look down into the valley and see the hedgerows make a big cross in the landscape. Brian uses this place to pray briefly most days. I find this quite touching.  Home again for breakfast, and as Rosie had stayed overnight we had breakfast and long chats with her. Rosie and Lorraine went off to see Pat and Maureen, before Rosie went off to work in the afternoon.  Lorraine told me that when Rosie arrived yesterday, they were talking and there was hammering on the roof. It was two crows, pecking at bones, with seagull feathers. The current theory is that the Robert the robbing herring gull has been murdered by, or at least scavenged by, crows. Probably a murder of crows. I did ...

Fond farewells with Pat and Maureen, who went back to Ashford. Lorraine took them first to Battle where they had some lunch and Maureen bought some special woola special wool and make sure it was the right sort of four ply cotton.  I meanwhile did bits of my own work. Mid afternoon, I found myself straying onto Ancestry.com on a free trial. It was there I learned that my biological father John had died in February 2017 at the comparatively tender age of 76. Not sure what to make of this -- obviously as I had no kind of relationship with him, it wasn't a particularly emotional experience, but nevertheless something, especially as I have been writing about the unreliable nature of early memory lately and so have been thinking lots about my first few years, in which he appears mainly as an absence. My main thoughts were selfish ones: I wish he'd lived longer as evidence of magnificent genes. And also ruing the idea that call from the mystery solicitor mentioning a large legacy wil...

Up very early and sent some poems off. Then slogging on concepts for my new German clients all day today, in the field of cosmetic surgery, which at least means I could be a bit more colourful in my language. Pausing only to hang up laundry, and house tidying and squirting thyroid medicine down Calliope's throat and leaving a series of unreturned voicemail messages with the clowns who did our path. Off to Lewes again this evening for another poetry reading.  The train ticket costing me considerably less this time because I have availed myself of a senior railcard app. The money offsetting the horror of seniority. To the Needlewriters at the John Harvey Tavern the centre of all things Harveys. Availed myself of a pint of a rare Harvey's mild after I saw Jeremy drinking one. A decent night hearing poetry from Alasdair Paterson, Ruth O’Callaghan and David Swann. Particularly taken by Ruth O'Callaghan's work and I bought one of her books afterwards. Chatting afterwards in a...

Train by the skin of my teeth, then to work in a much better frame of mind. Busy in the agency. A brief walk at lunchtime, chatting to Mum as I escaped... First wearing sunglasses, then slinking between cover in the rain. Left work 40 minutes early and the journey all smooth to sleety Lewes, and despite showing people my return to Brighton made it through without having to pay any extra. Lorraine, Robin and Nick were already at the John Harvey Tavern, along with little clusters of poets having snacks. I had a small pork pie and a pint of Harveys before I joined Robin upstairs, moving things about. A plethora of proper poets tonight. Everything went swimmingly, I introduced the night, with a passing reference to Plato. Sarah and Robin continued both on excellent form. Robin tying up Telltale nicely, at the end with a speech as this was the final publication from us. A highly enjoyable evening, with the anthology proving to contain lots of wonderful poems, in the readings that were gi...

Colder today, and my cold back with renewed vigour, a hacking cough and streaming. However things improved as the day wore on.  Again the Kenny brain veering off in many directions, except, of course, the one I wanted it to. However I sent off the long (95) lines poem I've been working on for ages to Long Poem Magazine. I've been flip flopping between titles for it, but finally settled on The Slow Tsunami . This is all part of my policy of getting everything out there. Beth got let go from her telemarketing job, as the part of the biz she was working on was no longer profitable. Apparently they did it nicely. Luckily Beth doesn't have all her eggs in one basket, and I was positive with her about getting something new. It was dead convenient though, just being on the other side of the park, part time and flexible so she was a bit down. I had a cheery evening however. Went to Charlotte's book launch at a room in the John Harvey Tavern, just across the river from the H...