under another sun

A pleasant day in which I worked on my new poem did a few bits of admin (including emailing the people who'd offered me work on Monday) and took myself for a long early afternoon moochabout in town, browsing happily in secondhand bookshops and popping into Waterstones where I bought a book by Umberto Eco and Jean-Claude Carrière, called ' This is not the end of the book; ' and a collection of essays called  Literature and Evil by George Bataille. After a walk by the sea I found myself in Kemptown where I stopped at a little 'cafe bistro' called Figaro's in a sidestreet. Here I ordered tea, and the man balked as if I had requested a unicorn, for it was an Italian place priding itself on its coffee. I was presented with a cup with a dirty saucer with the teabag floating in the milky water, and minutes later the worst all-day breakfast I've had this century, complete with a noxious ratburger. Thinking about it even now makes me want to retch. The charms of t...