under another sun

More Janet Sutherland 's Bone Monkey on the train. Poetry that really speaks to me. Work presentation today, and I found myself drifting into comedic mode, which I probably need to reign in a bit. A call from my French friends, saying they had won a French pharmaceutical marketing prize,  Empreintes 2018 , for a campaign I had created for them about animal health and rinderpest last year. I also have a spot of new work to do over the next week or so for them on a really interesting brief. London Grip nicely and speedily reviewed the Truths anthology here . Otherwise I went for a saunter at lunchtime, just wanting to be outside at present. Home. All well, but Lorraine fighting off a bug and a bit tired after her pilates. Both of us eager for sleep.

Zoomed off to work, tired, but cheery. Feeling a sense of accomplishment about the TRUTHS and the way Telltale ended, and my poems in the anthology, and all the things I gained from the associations I made through it. Looked happily at the printed version. Has some splendid poems in it. Bumped into a former colleague Bob, in Victoria, a brief discussion about his next foray to view former European battlefields with Slug and Pat. Nice to see him. Quite cheery into work, but longing to get the day's work over, however, and extremely pleased to be on my way back to Brighton. Trying to read The Crying of Lot 49 on the train, but am in the wrong mood for it. Met Innis for a cheeky beer in the Battle of Trafalgar, a while since I'd been in the Batty. Then popped into the Lord Nelson, then had a bag of chips and drank another beer in The Eagle. Innis is very well read, and generally very good company. We were also chatting about photography, and how he is seeking a new subject and...

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...