under another sun

Sweaty on the sofa Astonishingly, another good day's writing. Wrote an entire poem this morning. Only time will tell if it is any good or not. Visited Lorraine at lunchtime and made her some soup and tea and so on which she consumed sweatily on the sofa. She had a really high fever last night, but was a bit brighter today. When Beth and Mark returned at two and I mooched back home. However I was feeling rather hot and achey today, and ended up sleeping through the afternoon. Received a book of songs, and the text of a play from Renee today. I seem to have her collected works now. I feel very flattered, but I wish my French was better. Spoke to Anton who curiously wanted to talk about football again, as Chelsea had slipped up in some nondescript competition last night. Also spoke to Shaila who said that Chris had though I was interesting. Was a couch potato all night.

Home Rather splendid to wake up at home at 1 pm, and realise that the journey back from Chicago was behind me. Forced myself, and Lorraine after strong coffee, to get up. A beautiful day in Brighton - considerably warmer than Chicago - and Lorraine and I went for a brief walk down to the shops before she went home, as we'd both crashed out at my place, being right next to the station. Have loads of entries to catch up on, and some excellent photos to upload, so will be doing that asap. Calliope bit and scratched me quite badly when I got back home, and it was only when I turned on my computer and sat in my study did everything click for her, and she sat on my shoulder nuzzling my face full of purring. She is a creature of passions. Fish all present and correct. Lorraine's folks, and Beth and Mark had done a great job of looking after my beasts and house. In fact, Maureen Lorraine's mum had organised my airing cupboard. Amazing stuff, items all sorted and in neat piles. Foun...

Message in a bottle Arthritis work again today. Paused only to go to the Orange shop to replace the charger for my phone. Calliope had chewed through the last one - 17 and a half quid that weasel cost me. Felt brighter this morning than I had for a long time, obviously this tempting fate as the throat began to re-emerge as the day wore on. Attendant readers will remember that when in Guernsey a couple of trips ago I found a book of poems published in the 80s by a French poet called Renee Monamy which I rather liked. There was an address in the back of the book, and I wrote to her at it. It seemed to me like a message in a bottle. Well, I got a note from Renee last night, who had found me on the Internet. She did not get my card, however. Instead she stumbled across her name in this blog. The Internet is an amazing thing. A long and enjoyable chat this afternoon with Karen, who I worked with a little in my old IBM days, who was put in touch with me by Brian as she needs a writer. But ju...

Message in a bottle Have been contemplating sending a card Reneé Monamy. She is a French poet whose limited edition book Guernsey, mon île... I found in Guernsey Library. The back had an invitation to contact her. The book was published in a limited edition of 100 many years ago, but she is still alive (having googled her) and I am thinking of sending her a reply - although she probably doesn't live at that address any more. I just have to answer a message in a bottle. Otherwise a brilliant day on my skeleton novel. Suddenly the opening third has really slotted into place, after I rearranged it chronologically. I am delighted. Feeling cheery, off in the evening to a pub quiz with Lorraine and Dawn. I surprised myself by remembering Pangalactic Gargleblaster, the name of the drink in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Also found myself having a good laugh combining a few pints of Harveys with some brain teasers - and talking to a couple who are friends of Dawn and live in Va...