under another sun

Woke up shortly after six this morning with a poem in my head, and simply got up and wrote it. An absolute rarity when something arrives fully formed.  It's working title is 'My notebook has black pages' and is a bit wild and uninhibited in a Dylan Thomasish way I suppose, having yesterday watched a drama about him.  I had written it before 8:30am and, having completed it, felt as if my day's work was done before it had even started. Lots of work to be done, however, and I am trying to get my social media presence up to scratch and am working on twitter at the moment. Looking too at the pictures that were done by Alex, my grandfather. Posted about those here . I worked in the  Emporium Theatre on London Road, and was periodically barged by members of a moot of middle class mummies with their offspring.  Also there was a life class with people drawing, quite a lively place. Sonya had been while I was away, and I had left a yellow smiley post it note on our new va...

Up to a glass of water and off for my yearly fasting bloods. Veins much easier to find than when I had my last blood test, which I put down to the gym.  Stopped at Soup-erb arrested by a sign for a breakfast bacon sandwich and cup of coffee for £3. A good deal, but the chef simply didn't turn up. So left paying £4 for the coffee I drank while waiting 40 minutes for a bacon sarnie. Reading Rhona's book about food security, however, which was enjoyable. Off then to the Twitten where I let myself in to the house, and had a look at a mysteriously dampish bit by the window, yet another problem with the house sale. Then I went around to my old neighbours in the street behind and they let me peer from their garden at what turned out to have been excellent repair work on my roof and gutter. Charming couple. I told them L and I were getting married and fed them the line that it was the triumph of optimism over experience, and they said not to worry as they got married in their seventi...