under another sun

An easier day, after hours of editing yesterday.  Did some good writing this morning, while Lorraine was doing rhyme time. Avoided global news. In the afternoon I took a long walk along the seafront, the yellow trucks replacing all the shingle that had been washed to other parts of the beach. Those yellow trucks do important work in maintaining the sea defences. The sky was mostly dark and threatening, and the sea was actually lighter than the sky, which I like.   

First day of the new year. Lorraine and I woke up feeling clear and sprightly having drunk very little on new years eve. Lorraine and I then did stretches on mats.  Over breakfast, we swapped texts with Anton,  Brian (whose birthday it is today), and Yvonne among other pals.  I went down to the sea at noon, which was almost exactly high tide. The strength of the wind had raised the sea level meaning there was a risk of flooding. The sky was overcast, while the sea was an expanse of rough grey waves and white foam. Clouds of drenching spray rushed inland. All quite invigorating. I took some photos, though my camera lens got quite wet pointing into the wind. Quite pleased to be home and drinking hot coffee not long after. I called Mum, who seemed in good spirits. Then a luxurious afternoon, raining heavily outside, while Lorraine crocheting a small baby hat, after having completed a baby jacket last night.  I finished reading The Sea by John Banville -- a quite brilli...

Recording with Robin the morning. A bit of editing, and later a walk down by the sea... Trucks zooming about on Seaford beach redistributing the pebbles, which prevents Seaford from being washed away. I was photographing them, and the drivers were looking at me sympathetically as if I were the sort of person who habitually photographs trucks. There is something dinosaurishly impressive about them, creating great ruts with their wheels in the stones.

Up early, and making strides now on the long poem about memory and time and have found a form for it. Feeling quite pleased with myself and that I am doing good work. In the afternoon we went off to a garden centre near the village of Laughton called Merchants Gardens and Nursery. Here we looked at a few plants and bought some. While we were there a big tree emitted a creaky crunch and a large branch was dramatically broken off by the wind. Not long after a Spitfire flew over. The sky is full of Spitfires in East Sussex.   We came away with a box of plants. Home and some courgette cake made by Lorraine and a cup of tea. Went out for a walk but turned back quickly realising I was dehydrated. Drank two pints of water and then recommenced. The sea dramatic and lovely. The wind and sea very lively. Sort of end of days-ish feel to it, but gorgeous Meanwhile Lorraine playing piano, then working on curtains. I cooked on my return, and we lurked happily indoors in the stormy weather. ...

A blazing hot day. Lorraine and I got up slowly and then made off to find Beth and James who were lurking on the beach. Lorraine and I went in twice, and actually the water temperature was perfectly nice once you were in. If I had been swimming lots rather than a bit of bobbing about, I could have stayed in for ages. Hardy types like Brian report the glow of wellbeing after getting out from the cold water in January. But I certainly did feel my mood improve and feeling fresher and more alive afterwards. I'd never been down to the beach when it was so crowded here. Not enough for it to be oppressive, however. Nearby a bloke was catching mackerel by casting out a trace with small shiny lures on it. He reeled in three at once, one time. I have thought about doing this myself, but seeing the poor things thrashing about made me feel sad, which of course is very hypocritical of me. Part of me likes the idea of nipping off to the sea and returning with a brace of mackerel for our dinner t...

Pat and Maureen taking a break today from viewing properties and having a much needed down day.  Lorraine and I pottered about, Lorraine in the garden lots and I varnished the sanded window ledges etc this morning. Then this afternoon took a long walk down to Tide Mills and along the sea. Finished Will's book, The Cut That Wouldn't Heal , which was rather brilliant. Annoyingly I finished it about two minutes after I left home. But it has change the way I think about memoirs.  Here is a big branch that someone poked into the pebbles on Seaford beach.

Boxing Day. A sense of relief at not having to do so much. I got up early and cleared up for an hour or so, before other people stirred. Breakfast together. Then at midday, after Beth and James had enjoyed a  hobbits second breakfast of a large Xmas scoobie snack they zoomed off to James's mum in Eastbourne. I had a much needed walk by the sea this afternoon, warm, still and calm, and the sun peeping through the pearly grey sea.  Home, and feeling a tad tired, made off to bed for a cheeky nap, and woke up two hours a bit bleary two hours later. A quiet night, eating a bit of leftover turkey, and watching movies. Including a pointless remake of the Lion King. We all enjoyed an episode of the formulaic fun of Death in Paradise, however. The day ended in a disappointing Match of the Day, with Manchester Utd staging a magnificent comeback after going down two nil. Boo. Enjoyed eating more simply today, and reinstated seedy, nutty, fruity yoghurt for breakfast, and so on. Important...

A weird motivation bypass, despite getting up early to write, but after a while ran out of steam and started editing an interview. Lorraine getting ready to go off to see Pat and Maureen. Shortly after she set up, she turned around and came home again, as she was feeling queasy and off colour. She had a gold sofa day.  I went for a nice walk along the seafront. The heavy trucks were redistributing gravel over the beach, which is used to protect the town from flooding. Quite a spectacular sight. I'm not one for machines, but there was something quite stirring about the big trucks making great grooves in the beach pebbles with their wheels as they went about their Sisyphean task of moving stones from one end of the beach to the other.  Home again and sat with Lorraine reading, but then fell asleep.  Below redistributing stones on the beach. Oddly fascinating. And one of those stop and stare moments that I suddenly feel more able to do.