under another sun

A bit of a stale, limbo-ish day where I was conscious of having to wait for a decision on the meeting I had yesterday, which did not arrive. Also nothing back from the book I sent to the agent. The only dribble of feedback was a standard-issue poetry rejection yesterday. Rosie has now read  The Second Kind of Darkness and seemed to like it, and has a few comments which will be interesting to learn. I went to the gym through the autumnal park which was great fun. Later I spoke to mum and to Betty who is working in London tomorrow. Poor Lorraine didn't get home till really late after some parent teacher event. I cooked her a late snack, and she watched Great British bake off to decompress.  Richard sent me this link to dolphins near herm, makes me miss Guernsey lots.

Lorraine and Clem the next door neighbour found an expensive bicycle abandoned in the middle of the street this morning. It has been reported by the police and is in our house now. Trying to work on my own stuff today, but very preoccupied by the meeting this afternoon in London with agency I've been negotiating with near Paddington station. I seem to be going to Paddington lots lately. The meeting was bumped for an hour and a half till 4:30. Having to wait all day for it gave me plenty of time to brood, especially when the pop-in for a chat with the head of copy , turned into a semi formal three-person interview. Waited in the lobby for 20 minutes too. However the folks I met were all really nice. I escaped just before six and came straight home. I will find out tomorrow if I they want me. Lorraine and I watching the new Star Trek this evening, and drinking hot chocolate. Then to bed early. We're so rock and roll. Below while I was waiting for the interview, having been...

Lorraine a little sadder and wiser after enjoying fizzy wine at Beth and John's place last night. I however, was a little brighter, and bought some bread and took her up a breakfast in bed. Then I made off to Preston Park's Rotunda cafe. There I met Andrew, to talk about my accounts. On the next table Jess was having an Italian conversation lesson. I kept thinking it was a bit like a spy movie, bending over a pad, while Andrew did bits of maths, and I signed a piece of paper and took away another sheet carefully folded. Meanwhile their cockapoo scuffed excitedly between the two tables. Andrew and I then took a walk through the park, and shook hands near a parked car. All very suspicious. Enjoyed chatting with Andrew, and felt reassured about accounts and so on. He has a heart operation in Sussex Hospital in the next couple of weeks. He is understandably keen to get it done. Lorraine still in bed when I got home, but showing signs of life. A few cups of tea and coffee and Lorr...

Slept long and hard. Lorraine needing loads of sleep. I made teas and breakfast and it wasn't till after noon that we got up finally. We went for a walk to the shops at five ways. Dawn came around, and Lorraine cooked us  a delicious fish curry. Then off in Dawn's car to Beth and John's flat, where they had invited a few of their pals around as a flatwarmer. I wandered down to the co-op chatting with John, and bought a few beers, John using his magic discount card. A really cheery evening. Beth said she felt all grown up coming out of the bathroom, and realising all these people were friends she had invited to her own flat. I enjoyed chatting with Beth's pals Sarah and Suzie, and Ainsley and Milly, Laura and her excellent boyfriend Brahim. James there too, and it was good to catch up with him. I enjoyed enjoyed meeting Alex who teaches with Beth again, and I had a long chat with his partner Luke from Sydney. Good to see Rosie and Innis too. Rosie has almost read The S...

Up this morning, and after a pre-Sonia tidy, a spot of work, I zoomed up to London, and travelled to Maida Vale to meet Mum. Had to go on the Backerloo line for a couple of stops, which is one of the noodle thin ones that give me claustrophobia. I managed it, not having done this for a while, and came out and as I was unfeasibly early had some coffee. When Mum came we walked off to the BBC studios there for more music. A long queue which we had to stand in for half an hour or so, chatting. It was a recording of four contemporary British composers. Into the recording studio, which seemed immense and was miked up for the full BBC Symphony Orchestra. For long pieces, the first called Endangered written by Rachel Portman was a bit film music like, and was about endangered species.  The second piece by Edwin Rozburgh, Concerto for Piano and Wind Orchestra , was more challenging  between a dialogue between a pianist, playing a bazillion notes, and the wind sections of the orches...

So I happened to watch Theresa May's speech today. I am occasionally drawn to watching big political speeches. I remember watching Neil Kinnock's electrifying speech in 1985 when he threw Militant Tendency out of the Labour party, which was electrifying. With the embattled position of Theresa May, I thought it might be interesting political theatre. The resultant speech, which I watched about an hour after it was made, having caught a snatch of chat about it on Radio 4, was as other people have said an appalling anxiety nightmare of a speech. First being handed a P45 by a comedian who is then gives the thumbs up to Boris Johnstone saying 'Job Done, Boris.' Then the struggles with her voice began, and she almost lost her voice completely with 25 minutes to go. Her chancellor having to hand her a throat pastille. And then, the inane slogan on the set behind her beginning to shed letters towards the end of the speech. None of these things were within her control. She looke...

Up early and working on poems. Back to the gym fairly early, then to Starbucks, but couldn't settle there to work. Home, via Sainsbury's. I also did more work and more scraping. In the evening I walked down to see Anton at the Joker, where we had woof woof wings to line our stomachs, and from there we decided to go off piste, to a pleasant time warp of a pub on Baker Street, called The Mitre , where I had a glass of mild and felt like I was drinking in a pub that had been untouched by time, apart from people looking at their phones and iPads. Then a hundred yards on to The Druid's Arms , where we left quickly as there was nothing to see there. Next we drank a beer in The Great Eastern, and then decided to go to The Green Door Store , which is a music venue under the railway arches which Anton has haunted quite a bit, and I never have. I followed Anton sidling into the stage room, all shiny brick and a solitary doorframe standing in the floor where a small room would have be...

A call from Lorraine first thing this morning. The cats wanting food. I had a good day's work today, and broke it up with a long walk listening to my book about octopuses. I'm a sucker for it. Did some scraping today too. Spoke to Beth while walking through some woody bits by the side of the golf course, and then down and through the park. Bright day, with lovely autumnal smells in the air. I love this time of year. It is the season of poets.  Otherwise, the luxury of tinkering with poems, and eating the apple crumble Lorraine left for me. Also rescheduling the poetry reading for Wednesday 25th October, and not 2019. A quiet and blameless night indoors sipping tea and sparkling water. Missing Lorraine.

So up with Lorraine this morning, and waved her off not to see her for the rest of the week. She is going to the Isle of Wight today with a couple of dozen children in a coach and a boat. So left to my own devices this week. Certain photos taken of me last week at the poetry reading I went to, cropped up on Facebook. In these photos I look a bit like Friar Tuck. I began a two-pronged attack on this, going to the barbers late this morning to make sure the ratio of gleaming pate to hair was a bit less medieval. Then to the gym for the first time in ages, for a mild mannered half an hour on the cross trainer.  From there to the non-ideologically sound Starbucks, where I worked for a bit on my laptop, before sauntering off to The Marwood where I had arranged to meet Catherine and Alex, as I thought they should meet as they have much in common. Nice to drink even coffee and chat with them for a couple of hours about all kinds of things. Then home, where I did a bit more work. I am ...

A pinch and a punch on a rainy, dreary Sunday in which Lorraine and I had a perfectly nice time pottering about indoors. Funny how being at home together doing ordinary things can be exactly what's needed. We did some protracted scraping in the big bedroom, which is now almost done, but it seems parts of it will need to be re-plastered as the previous layers had concealed a world of horror. Doing this sort of thing can be quite therapeutic I find. Lorraine zooming about getting ready for her trip to the Isle of Wight with dozens of schoolchildren all next week. I am going to miss her. We've not been apart for so long since I went to Chad. I'm hoping the Isle of Wight might be a bit less gruelling. Thankfully, I am feeling a tad more lively today, than I have felt for a while. Spoke to Toby via text for a while, as he was marking books in Creamer cafe.

An excellent morning after Lorraine and I got up. Lorraine into town, to meet her pal Sarah for a long coffee, and I worked on some poems, and in that hour had something of a breakthrough on two substantial poems I have been working on. This made me feel like I hadn't completely lost my writing mojo after all, which was pleasing. Then into town to meet Lorraine. We stopped for a coffee in one of Brighton's innumerable coffee places, and then went to a recently opened shoe shop where Lorraine had just bought some rather cool boots. The Italian manager was cooing excitedly over Lorraine when we returned, and I ended up being given a small discount on a nice pair of tan and green suede numbers. I like shoes. Then a bit of shopping around town. A kerfuffle just outside Churchill square, and more cooing. People were taking photographs of two dyed doves, which had settled on a ledge just near one of the main entrances. I snapped this below. After some shopping, including a spel...

A good end to the week. I felt as if I had been struggling with my identity of being a writer, and if I should chuck it all in, and focus on something less pointless, but as Wordsworth says in the Prelude, "The Poet, gentle creature as he is,/Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times; /His fits when he is neither sick nor well,/ Though no distress be near him but his own/Unmanageable thoughts." Although the issue was this week whether I was a poet at all, which I suppose is demonstrable by having quite a few actual poems published. But this proves nothing as there is an enormous amount of rubbish published (some of which I witnessed last night). On that note, someone posted Facebook posts of one or two people reading, but as I was sitting near the front, they were also loving portraits of the area of concern, which now appears to be the size of Australia. Bah. But today it was all different. Did some practical stuff, like a spot of billing for the scraps of freelance work I...

Lorraine working from home this morning, which was nice to have tea together. We noticed the mushrooms were gone as mysteriously and quickly as they came. Thinking about my friend Tim Gallagher and trying to make an old poem about him work, had the image, which I rejected, of him disappearing into a wood like Keats's nightingale. A short walk at lunchtime, then slept heavily for an hour this afternoon. Luckily just before I went out this evening I did an hour's work I was pleased with. Then, before Lorraine got in, I walked to The Nightingale Room above the Grand Central pub opposite the station, which was tonight hosting a poetry reading. I will be reading there at the end of next month, although having done a blog post about this, it turns out the day has been changed and now it is October 25th. Anyway it seemed churlish not to turn up for some poetry, before I go on there. I knew a couple of people Michaela Ridgway and John McCullough with whom I had a brief chat about J...

Up early and working for a while, before sloping off into town, where I bought shoe laces, dust masks for scraping walls, and went to the bank. After this I had a quick coffee in the Marwood cafe. It was regrettably full of posturing arty types doing some kind of quick and grubby photoshoot, as if it were the most important thing in the world. Bah, I thought, Old fogeyishly. Then off to meet Catherine at The Bath Arms for lunch. A pint of beer, some grub and a long chat. Catherine is so intelligent and sane, I always feel braced and perked up by her company, and that I can say almost anything to her. I also spoke to Rosie about our forthcoming birthdays, which as they are only a day apart we are going to have a mutual drink in a pub with our many mutual chums on Saturday night. Still no real energy. I start off the day full of hope and cheer, but by mid afternoon feel tied, and achey, which makes me feel glum. It feels like there are million things to do, but I just have no oomph. ...

Morning mist, lovely and autumnal, then a pleasant and warmish day. I was more cheery and more productive day, not having quite the same degree of contempt for my poems as before. I worked in the morning till after lunch then I took a stroll around the nearby streets and Blakers Park, then did wall scraping for a couple of hours while listening to my new book Other Minds: the octopus and the evolution of intelligent life , by Peter Godfrey-Smith, who is a philosopher of science and octopus fancier. Fascinating stuff.  Octopuses and mammals diverged a long and wormy time ago in evolutionary terms, and the Octopus is the closest thing we'll get to meeting an alien intelligence. Lorraine still heroically soldiering on at work, while the bug I have is hanging about too. Otherwise little to report. Texted Bob, to bump seeing him on Thursday in London. Some Telltale activity, and I am thinking in advance, while I have some time, about my poetry readings on 26th October and 1st November...

By the end of the day I ended up despising everything I'd ever written, which happens once in a while. It can be useful to look at your work in a cold and sneering way but it is rarely comforting. The trouble is writing is not a choice, it is a condition. Meanwhile, in the world of successful writers... I am still laughing at a quote by Steven King, that 'J.K.Rowling never met an adjective she didn't love'. I also finished  Joseph Anton , listening to it on my iPod as I did laundry and other things. Salman Rushdie's account of his under the fatwa, I found over-long, indulgent and boring in parts, but it was also completely fascinating in others, and something I will remember reading for a long time. I suspect Rushdie is a likeable one to one, but seems to have a knack of rubbing people up the wrong way. Spoke to Mum, who had to go to hospital for an appointment, but she had packed a bag just in case. Luckily she was immediately returned to the wild. Very pleas...

A good night's sleep and both Lorraine and I were feeling distinctly perkier. A quick breakfast with John then off in the car to Marks and Sparks to pick up a cake that Lorraine had had decorated there, and a cheeky bunch of flowers. Drove off towards Kent to join in the celebrations of Pat and Maureen's sixtieth wedding anniversary, which occurred while they were on holiday. At Ashford Station we picked up Beth and were soon at Pat and Maureen's house. It was already filling up with people, as Pete, Ken and Clare were there. Soon Lorraine's nieces Sarah and Louise, and Louise's partner Will had arrived, then Jason, and Maureen's sister Betty, and Betty's daughter (Lorraine's cousin) Janet and her husband... Then it was time to drive off to the Duke's Head, where we had a room, the same one we'd been in for Pat's Eightieth birthday.  We were joined there by several other family members including Maureen's sister Doris, Pat's brother...

Lorraine taking it easy this Saturday trying to get over a nasty chest cough and cold, and I wanted to look after her by bringing teas and breakfasts in bed and so on. My throat, ears and sinuses flared up again with gusto too, and by the time the afternoon came, all I wanted to do is sleep. I tried to do some writing. Then when Lorraine got up we did a few household chores done together,  Lorraine and I simply rested and slept on the sofa through the afternoon. Today was the story of things not happening. We were due to pop down to The Basketmakers in the afternoon to say goodbye to Irish Tom, who is permanently returning to Ireland, but didn't. We were also supposed to see Jess and Andrew tonight, but as Andrew has to go in for a heart operation shortly, and doesn't need to risk getting a cold. While I was slumped on the sofa, Lorraine cooked lots of nice things she would have cooked this afternoon. We both hen mindlessly slumped in front of x factor, and then repaired to...

Typically, the day of the week I had to work in London, was the day Lorraine's chesty cold got the better of her, and she worked from bed all day, getting up to make a delicious chicken and mushroom pie for my return. Also a rather beautiful and warm day. I set off at seven to travel to Hampton, on the Thames, to work for a day with The French Bloke, at the FB and Pat's agency. Pat is on hols in France at the moment, which is why I was needed. Keith was doing a spot of freelance there too, and it was good to see him. The FB and Pat working with John Perkins, another old pal of mine. Their new colleagues Joe and Carolyn too, both really nice. Carolyn grew up in Orkney. Their office is part of an old boat house, and so backs onto the river. A gorgeous view. Underneath them is a loquacious Kiwi artist , and at one point Joe, the FB and I walked down to the steep stairs to the little jetty. This is patrolled by all kinds of water fowl, swans, geese, ducks, cormorants and more. Th...

A really good five or six hours of working more fluently than I had done for some days this morning, and I made some good progress. Then I took myself for another walk, through the woods by the golf course at Hollingbury, determined to get my ten thousand paces done, though still feeling underpowered, sore throated and so on. Lorraine has this cold badly, but is still struggling into work. I was listening to the weighty audiobook of  Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie as I trudged. I am over half way now. Fascinating story of Rushdie's life under the fatwah, but I feel his account is screaming out for a hard edit. The death sentence hanging over Rushdie for writing a book was utterly unacceptable, but Rushdie himself is hard to like, and the man who emerges from his account is complex, highly talented, wronged, with lashings of pomposity and vanity, but ultimately he is also an heroic figure. Spoke to Mum this afternoon, and also was asked to go up to London to do some work tomorr...