under another sun

Footfalls echo in the memory Up early and started a new poem. Quite amazing to have so much new stuff. Only time will tell if it is any good. Spoke at length to my old friend Al who was after some advice. Then off to The Sussex Beacon. Decided to walk, which involved two very steep hills so I was quite sweaty when I arrived. Lovely lunchtime meeting with a woman called Juley, about the CD project. But we also started talking about marketing and branding and we might do some work together in that way too. Really took to Juley, and after a salady bite to eat in the canteen, she showed me about the garden and the rooms. The Beacon is beautifully located, and looks out across the downs, and it brought some memories back of visiting Tim there in the mid-nineties. Now the emphasis is completely different, and is about helping people who are managing HIV to lead normal lives. There is a weird healing of hurts that I thought long scabbed over about this. After the meeting I and found myself on...

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...

Morlock moments Woken by Calliope at 5 this morning. Atrocious weasel falling off the window ledge behind the blind and scrabbling for what seemed ages on the edge of the radiator, like a feline Buster Keaton. Up, showered and off to London, then listening to my Girl who played with fire audiobook again. Bought a cup of tea on the train and it was execrable, necessitating an undignified pursuit of the tea man, to get a new one without rancid milk. Then into the tube like a Morlock. Once out of the tube, and walking through Magravine Cemetery (a familiar haunt) I talked to the printer and to Richard, and was overcome by a wave of cheeriness on the way to work. Working on concepts for an HIV pitch with a freelance art director called Andy, who is perfectly pleasant. For some reason we found ourselves in an arduous and unproductive slog through the day, with me developing quite a throbby headache making it even more difficult to concentrate. We are already we are behind schedule. Not hel...

Among the antiques, an old friend Up early and made coffee for Bob, and we sipped it dolefully, somewhat sadder and wiser after what proved to be too many beers the night before. We are not as young as we were. Mad dog woke with a stiff neck which he blamed on swollen glands. He got a bit tetchy when I pointed out the fanciful nature of this diagnosis, and we bickered weakly till it was time for him to get his train. Worked for a few hours, then decided that more than anything else in the world I needed a new pot for one of my cacti. Nearby there is a shop with old fashioned beautifully coloured pots with a Kew Gardens stamp on. But something in me balks at paying £20 for a flower pot. Passing the antiques auction place I decided to pop in there to see what was what. There was no useful pots, however instead I found an old friend working in there. Cathy was a very good friend of my old friend Tim Gallagher. We'd not seen each other since shortly after his death. It was really good...