under another sun

So a lovely breakfast in La Barbarie and then a bit of a toddle around the parish, all very overcast however. I popped into the graveyard to say hello to my grandparents, and into the supermarket to buy Richard a bottle of wine for his birthday. And myself a bottle of coke, aka the black doctor, as I was feeling the need for sugar or liquid or something.  On the way back to the hotel, we paused to say hello to La Gran'mère, as is only right and proper. Back to the hotel, where we met Richard and Jane for lunch. A very cheery time, and lovely to see the pair of them.  Richard looking as twinkly eyed as ever, and Jane regal. Lots to catch up on. They always seem to be having adventures, but also have had a very testing time after their home was flooded from above -- they had to move out for months, and now there is more work due upstairs. Still they were both in fine form, and busy being creative as ever.  Afterwards a bit of flaking out for Lorraine and I, enjoying a quiet...

My actual birthday. Sixty blinking one. This one however not at all traumatic. Lorraine gave me another pressie, which was Steve Howe's autobiography -- which certainly reveals, ah-hem, a lot about his personality and guitar geek side. Also a Molesworth book from Richard and Jane in Guernsey, and a card warning me against the evils of drink from Pat and Maureen. The outside world somewhat grey and dour.  A bracing lunchtime walk however, after eating a cheese and tomato toastie which I snapped and sent to Beth. Dozens of lovely messages from people on Facebook, email and so on. Maureen and Pat phoned this morning, as did Anton and Katie. Lorraine home early today, which was nice. A very pleasant day, after a cheery birthday weekend. Below a snap from the wall of the hill fort looking slightly southwest in gorgeous black and white.    

End of a curiously unproductive week. More work this morning on the Centaur project. I sent Helen the next tranche of words, which she liked. Between ironing and other such glamorous activities, listening to my audiobook Villette by Charlotte Bronte. I love it. It's a case, as I was saying to Anton, of the right book at the right moment. I really liked Jane Eyre, but I think I prefer this. In the evening, Lorraine late back from work and frazzled after Friday IT problems. We wandered off to Preston Park Tavern which was so busy we opted instead for The Cleveland, which although near we'd never been into. It was a bit like stepping back into the 1980s, except the man sitting alone in the busy pub, staring at a little tablet, his face grimacing with all kinds of emotions. Football I think. Then down the hill to the Shahi. Chatting lots to Sabir, who was saying he wanted to come to the play. We enjoyed being in familiar surroundings and tucking into a curry. Meanwhile more ...

Leg noticeably perkier having not used it to hauling things up and down stairs for a day. A boon. Lorraine working from home all day, which was splendid. A long chat with Matty boy, who I'd not caught up with for some time. He, Isy and the bairn are now happily installed in a new home in Brentford. In the afternoon hopped on the bus to meet Helen Russell in Hove for an hour and a half. Enjoyable meeting, and Helen's an interesting person. We sat at the piano and she played me some of the music she had been sketching. It all sounded coherent and often very melodic with a gorgeous 12 tone passage - and she has strong ideas for the piece, an oratorio or opera. Interestingly we seem to be on the same page when it comes to what we have read. She mentioned Heidegger, and Levi-Strauss for example, and we talked at length about mythology, and I showed her how I used mythology in my work, for example in the Minotaur piece. She was also complimentary about the work Matt and I had done...

A poor night's sleep for both of us. Lorraine having a stomach bug today, and I felt a little weird in the stomach too. Lorraine slept this morning, and I went to visit my grandparent's grave. I popped into Brouards and was sold a few sprigs of local freesia to put on their grave. I enjoy visiting their grave, and it is not at all morbid.  A convention of magpies broke up as I stepped into the graveyard, which has several people I knew when I was young. My Grandfather David's parents, David and Zelia (who was known as Toots) and his sister Peggy share one grave, its stone is an open book which now looks quiet ancient, quite a strange thing to see mouldering stone when I remember them so vividly. Then back to the hotel where we had a very relaxed afternoon dozing by the pool. I listened to Laughing Stock again and splashed about for some time, and chatting with some of the other residents. Later Lorraine and I bussed off into into St Peter Port where a sun-bronzed, black ...

Working obsessively on new poems for many hours on a particular submission I have in mind. Boosted too by some kind words about The Nightwork from Richard. Tremendously hot day here in sunny Brighton, and I was pleased to finally escape the study if only for another doctor's appointment this afternoon, which coincided with feeling better today than I have done for some weeks. He weighed me and adjusted his records to show me a over a stone lighter. Then I called in on Anton a refreshing glass of water in his back garden. Nice to shoot the breeze for a bit. He is relieved to have been released from jury duty. Aparently Oskar feels hard done-to because Klaudia had an afternoon with me, so I will have to sort something out with him. Amazing really that my Godchildren actually want to spend time with me. I'm very lucky. We also toyed with Oskar's One Ring on a chain, just like Frodo Baggins's, except that Oskar's had been through the washing machine a few times. Anto...

Faster than expected improvement after last night's torments. I finally got to sleep at about 4, and spent the day soldered to the gold sofa tinkering with bits and pieces, and by the end of the day could walk without yelping. Calliope did not leave my side all day. The loyalty of cats is underestimated. Betty and John here this morning before they set off back to London. FaceTime with Mum, notes from Richard and Jane this evening. Lately returned from Tuscany, Mr Fleming is now about to launch himself into cyberspace. Early to bed tonight, mercifully pain free, reading bits of The Folklore of Guernsey by Marie de Garis to Lorraine. It's enough to make a cat laugh, as the old islanders say.

A day of grinding out the work. Little to report from the day. Cooked healthy food in the evening. More interestingly I listened to Richard on Jenny's show on BBC Guernsey. Richard's on from 02:41.45.  Reading some excellent poems, he is going through a highly productive phase -- long may it last -- and referring in passing to my Napoleon complex. Jenny being lovely as usual. After I listened to it, I called the gem of the sea to chat to Richard and Jane for some time about life, poetry, the splendours of Italy and so on. As soon as I put the phone down, Toby face timed me from Chicago, and showed me around the apartment there, and I looked out of the windows at the Chicago views, and the sun falling through the windows, (talking sotto voce being shown through the bedroom as Romy was asleep) and given some detail about the restaurants and cafes within a stone's throw. FaceTime is a wonder of the new-fangled world.

Slept many hours last night, and only roused by the intolerable plaguing of Calliope and Brian, purring and looming over our heads and climbing on us. Pottered about today getting things straight about the house and gradually unpacking presents: today we were gloating over those from Pat Norrie, First Matie and Matty boy and Isy who had conspiringly bought us Le Creuset balti dishes, a deep baking dish and a griddle respectively after First Matie had stayed and Lorraine and I had talked in a distant, longing fashion about them. Lorraine already busily looking up balti recipes, and I am persistently mentioning pies. Chatted to Mum who had enjoyed the wedding and told Lorraine that she'd not seen me looking so happy as in the photos from Icart on here a few days ago. I am happy. In the evening after another substantial rest in the afternoon, off out to the Shahi for a cheeky curry. A warm welcome in there as normal, and we had a good time reminiscing about weddings and honeymoo...

Something of a slow start to the day, tucked into breakfast and hung about in a leisurely way, before going for a walk. Wandered down La Rue des Grons, looking wistfully at the old family home. Walked back into St Martin's where we caught a bus into town. The driver refused to charge us double, which is a controversial new States of Guernsey policy, with the bus price for locals being half. By chance the bus also had one of my poems Hooked as a poster in it. You can't help but be cheered by this sort of thing. Some wandering about in town, a spot of shopping, with Lorraine buying some tops, before meeting Richard and Jane in Delice. This is the new name for the old market square cafe I have haunted for many years. Richard and Jane had made it back to Guernsey safely, and had caught one of the few trains available, meaning they spent a good deal of time waiting at Gatwick. Good to be able to chat to them properly for a bit. Had a glass of wine, and they introduced us to  ga...

A leisurely start to a day bathed in beautiful sunlight. Breakfast, and eventually we sauntered down to Moulin Huet and as it was high tide we sat at the bench above the bay and looked out at the water whitening at the rocks for some time. Flowers everywhere, and only knowing the names of half of them. It is like end of winter in Narnia, and everything magically blossoming. The tea room with its stunning view of the bay was open, and we had sandwiches and tea there for lunch. Then back down to the bay to watch the tide falling and simply soak up the tranquility for a few hours, perching on rocks and watching small boys fishing from the rocks, and dogs plunging after a tennis ball into the waves. Sat there for a while doing the meditation of listening to all the noises first near then far: children playing and crunching the stones, the waves on the rocky shore, and the strange gulping noise the waves make under the big rock, then the sea moving across the whole bay and the breeze on...

Friday at last Kept awake by the stormy night, and what my Hypochondriac's Handbook (a thoughtful recent gift from Richard and Jane) tells me is Chinese Restaurant Syndrome. Up hideously early walking through a rainwashed Brighton. Train slow this morning, crawling north. Work quite hectic. Agency Fridays are often a bit frenzied as everyone rushes to meet deadlines of one sort or another. Deafening fireworks near the office, then spilled out onto the street at 5:30 with The French Bloke, and had a lightning fast drink before I caught my train. The FB is growing a moustache for Movember , and it is making him look like Lemmy out of Motörhead. Straight to The Basketmakers. Betty, Lorriane, Matt, Wayne, Cath, Linda and Linda's mate Karen squeezed around two tables. Supped pints of seafarers and talked to all these friends for hours, before Lorraine and I with Cath walked home. Beth collected by Amy and Jamie. L and I bidding farewell to Cath outside bloody Ace pizza as I had not ...