under another sun

A good day for me. Up fairly early and tinkering, before breakfast with Lorraine. Actually raining today in Seaford.  Strapped on my neoprene knee, and Brian collected me for a walk in Friston Forest. Brian had already been for a swim and had been up since six. Always lots to talk about, with Marley the dog zooming after sticks, and we tree bathed in the green light. The earth very dry, although there was some fine rain, and it had been raining overnight a little. I always enjoy how Brian is unafraid to talk about the big stuff, like death and religion and art and so on -- and of course we have a laugh too.  Collecting Yvonne and Sebastian, Brian then gave me a lift back, before they went off to look at dinosaurs in the afternoon. Lorraine back, and we snatched a bit of lunch together, between rhyme time, and her having to go round to be with Pat and Maureen, as they waited for the nurse to come and sort out his blocked catheter. Poor Patrick had been in some discomfort. I mad...

A long pre-hibernation sleep last night. Today the last day of September, and a grizzly morning with lashings of rain. Lorraine and I stayed in bed till 10:30am, unheard of for me on a Monday morning.  Up and did some decent writing with what was left of the morning. Addressed yesterday's sudden bout of vertigo by reinstating the Brandt-Daroff exercises, I've done before. They work by loosening crystals in your ears, and you have to hold your head at 45 degrees in thirty second bouts. Felt floaty and lurchy for a time afterwards -- to be expected -- but it settled down.  At tea time, I hopped on a train to Lewes to meet Messers Hoibak and Hartley in The Lewes Arms. Crept up the hill and explained with some pathos that I was still feeling a bit post-covidy, which turned into a recurring joke through the evening. We sat for a bit putting the world to rights in the Lewes Arms, a deeply excellent pub unchanged Mark says since he's lived in the area. I've been there over a c...

A cup of tea in bed from Lorraine this morning. Worth its weight in gold. Working today for a few hours on stuff for Pat, and also clambering about the house getting on with stuff. Woke up early and in need of irrigation after yesterday with Bob. The weather growing less bitingly cold as the day progressed, but still hats and coats weather. Off to Lewes this evening, where I met my old school friend Mark in the Lewes Arms. After a couple of steadying pints of Harveys, down to Chaula's Indian restaurant for a rather good bite to eat.  Lewes quiet tonight, the Lewes Arms down to a handful of stalwarts when we left, and Chaula's empty when we left it. We had an absolute bloody final drink in the Gardener's Arms, where the solitary barmaid had already stacked up most of the stools and chairs. Lots to talk about, and Mark is a good raconteur, and was telling me about his new company, which has necessitated a few trips to India, among other places. Good to catch up with someone...

Spent some of the day getting my poetical ducks aligned before the Telltale poets and friends reading in Lewes tonight, which was a success despite a derailment at Brighton station during the day which made travel really hard along the south coast. Robin and I swapping emails and I phoned Robin to tell her about the travel chaos.  One of the readers dropped out at the last minute, but luckily Siegfried was coming, so we got him to do a reading. Lorraine drove over. Beth came too having been working in Eastbourne. Beth enjoyed herself mingling with poets, and I was really touched that she came. She also took photos which was excellent. Found Robin already there and Lorraine Robin and I shuffled the room around for a bit, and I drank a pint of Harveys and ate some chips in preparation. For me it was an opportunity to meet more poets such as Martin Malone editor of Interpreter's House, really likeable man and a really good reader. Helen Fletcher had come all the way from Carlisle,...

Seeking tranquility today and to get myself in the right frame of mind for The Nightwork pamphlet launch this evening. After running through what I had intended to read, I felt the Kenny pipes rasping somewhat as my throat has been sore for a few days. I drank loads of water, however, and this seemed to do the trick and it was much improved by the evening, and Beth suggested emergency remedies of steam baths etc. if it got serious. Like the literary Titan I am, I spent my afternoon waiting for a small roofer, who arrived late and sporting many tattoos of boxers and a humorous hinge in the crease of his arm. Making a meal of the work, he clambered about on the roof and hammered at the lead flashing and did other apparently helpful things 'for nothing'. These he described in tiresome detail. He relieved me of a decent chunk of cash, but did not receive the tip he also requested. Worse, he garbled and looked at his son when he was talking to me so I could only undersand part of...