under another sun

Up before seven this morning. I wake early when Lorraine isn't here. A chat with Keith over my morning cuppa and then I did writing of mine own. Finding it hard to concentrate -- despite having some ideas. Gym at lunchtime - listening to Victor Klemperer's diaries. So reminiscent of the rise of Trump and populism -- the flagrant tearing up of the rules and everybody either enthusiastic or numb.   I miss certain equipment that was in my old gym. Few people go there, but I am finding the right machines are hard to get to, covered in teenage gym limpets. Took a longer route home, Seaford misty and cold. A small doze this afternoon, then more writing till getting on for eight. Made a fast curry and watched Star Trek. Bed a bit earlier today, reading a bit from CG Jung's book Memories, Dreams, Reflections about his meetings with Freud. They do sound (unintentionally) hilarious. Below still learning Seaford. Down a twitten today which forked.

Another Lorraineless day. Maureen stable in hospital but Lorraine there to join all the dots. It meant I could simply go to my desk early, and think about my poetry MS. Also cooked loaf that had been in the airing cupboard overnight.  Decided to go off to the gym, but when I arrived there, the emergency alarms were all going. The receptionist let me in anyway, but as the alarms did not stop, and eventually the building was cleared, and we hung about outside I decided to cut my losses and go for a longish walk instead. I began exploring some of the paths climbing up Seaford Head. Because of my reluctance to go where there is no cover, I must thread up near trees and so on. Stupid anxiety makes me feel weird in wide exposed spaces, especially on the tops of hills. So I have to learn how to climb Seaford Head my own way. But I did eventually get to the top, but immediately began scrambled down again. I was comforted by the fact there is a golf course there, because it reminded me of t...