under another sun

Up early, but my eyes still bad after yesterday's migraine so peering at the computer wasn't great. Off at lunchtime to London, first to my dentist on Strand on the Green where there were no dramas just a bit of scraping. I like and trust Lucinda, my dentist of 25 years so I still keep going back rather than have a dentist in Brighton, which in many ways would be more sensible. Then a train from Kew Bridge to Waterloo, and an interlude of a couple of hours walking along the river. I went into Tate Modern and using my Tate Membership card, zoomed in to look at the Pierre Bonnard exhibition .  Found myself absolutely sucked into one large painting Salle à manger  à la campagne painted in Normandy. I must have looked at it for fifteen minutes (one reason why going to exhibitions on your own can be fun) and drinking in the fauvist colours. Fascinating how he painted white things in shadow violet in several pictures. There was also a free exhibition of pre-war German...

A sleepless night. I eventually gave up at 4am got up and started reading Let the right one in , a horror story. Took Lorraine tea and made her breakfast seeing as I was up and dressed. A brain befuddling fug of tiredness all day. Tried to fall asleep again at eight, but then Lorraine called from school saying she had left her phone, and I gave up then. Unfortunately I had to do work for my French pals today on swine flu. Feeling a bit anxious about this afterwards, as no sleep seems to deprive me of twenty IQ points. I had a nice chat with Val though. Anton phoned me about going to a business event run by an old work mucker Terry Brissenden on Storytelling in Business next month. Today Theresa May's Brexit dead duck deal was crushed in Parliament -- apparently the biggest ever government defeat. I cannot see any outcome from here that will not harm the UK. A second referendum, as finally the UK has a better idea of what it is voting for, may be a good idea. But what happens i...

Raining poets in London Sleeping-pill assisted sleep made me feel much improved today, although still unaccountably edgy. But cut through things quickly, sent copies of Defenders off to an agent and to Shaun Shackleton at the Guernsey Press. Also contacted The Sussex Beacon about the CD project, went to see Adrian and Diane about photographs, taking in dozens of spangly high heels Adrain is shooting. Was made a lovely cup of coffee and had a nice chat with both. Off to London, plans changing at the last moment so took myself amid torrential rain to the poetry library in The Royal Festial Hall. Had a strange sequence of coincidences all relating to people I knew really well in the early 90s. Wandered over at random to pick up a copy of Acumen and it fell open at a poem by Rhona McAdam, an old friend. Next magazine I picked up it fell open at a review of the excellent iTuplips by Mario Petrucci, another old friend. Wandered aimlessly along the shelves and Tim Gallagher's Narcissus G...