under another sun

Shook the lark awake, as I was working from home which meant no commute. Looked at a bit of a poem first thing, and then settled down to working on a newsletter, for work, about chronic pain. Is there a message in this I wonder? I wants it... I succumbed to my unnatural desire for Anna's camera. I got an excellent deal for it on the internet. Mine is black and so is the tiniest bit cooler than Anna's silver one. Golluming over it today. Meanwhile.... First Matie is copying me. She has a blog (copying). She is buying a new camera (copying). She is going to Guernsey this weekend (copying). I rest my case -- till tomorrow's CSR that is. Remo came by at lunchtime, having checked the pipes in the toilet and got comfortable over a quick coffee and a long chat. Eventually I had to encourage him towards the door as I had work to do. This afternoon I went to the hospital to talk to the consultant about the sensitive subject of chronic prostatitis, with two students peering at me o

Lurked at home with a touch of a cold, but steadily self-medicated with food. Other than this I diligently read throught the helpful list MJ sent me of items to consider for Valentine's Day, and an excellent new poem she'd written. And of course spoke to her too. Put off my food fest with Anna and Anton till next weekend, which was good as Anton was struck down with man flu. Spoke to mum too. She had been for a three hour walk with her new Czech pal the day before and was feeling fairly perky. Downloaded a few tunes from iTunes with my new broadband. Very easy to buy music this way and they're really easy to put straight on the iPod. The idea of buying the one track you like from a CD for 79p rather than paying the full whack for loads of filler is splendid.

Jaded. New broadband, coversation with MJ, and the effects of too many beers meant I accidentally didn't go to bed till three last night. Bitingly cold today. Did nothing noteworthy. Shopping, bottle bank, fiddling with computer. Invited Anton, Anna and Baby Klauds around for grub tomorrow. Mary Jane told me that Weezer is thinking about a getting a new dog. Unfortunately she had to give Neptune away because he bit the hands that fed him. Discovered tonight a leak from the pipes behind the toilet, which has forced me to turn the water off at the mains again. This bathroom business is making me want to tear my clothes into shreds and run in my rags down the Twitten to war against the Gods of plumbing. But I suppose that's not an entirely practical solution. Perhaps Remo can fix it.

My good luck with poems this year continues. I seem to be writing in an uninhibited way which is lovely to experience. I got my moleskine out on the London train out of habit and wrote a love poem. I am going to break my resolution of not putting drafts on the blog as this seems fairly complete at first take. I was talking on this blog a while ago about Ted Hughes and how people didn't believe he wrote The Thought Fox quickly and easily. This may not be up to his standards but I scribbled this in my moleskine in under twenty-five minutes, followed by another twenty typing it up and tinkering when I got to work. Had Keats at the back of my mind... hence the title, and the darkling reference from Ode to a Nightingale. My muse, as ever, is Mary Jane and this is about the walk we took on Thursday November 17th. (Having a blog is amazing for pinpointing things.) I am proud of this poem, and MJ likes it too. It may change a bit once I've let it lie for a while. Romantic We waited t

A talk today at work by Marc Michaels, a Hebrew scribe. He gave an absorbing insight into his unbelievably painstaking craft and the tools of his trade, such as the oak apple ink, vellum, turkey quill pens and so on. We all had a go scribing on a worksheet afterwards. I think being a scribe would push me to the edge of sanity, but there you go. I swam today. Need to get back in the habit. It was good, and I felt virtuous. Email with Reuben and Katie today. A Copy Shop Reunion (CSR) is brewing. After work I donned my suit and took part in a short film being made by Paul, a newish colleague in the creative department. I played the deathless part of a man awarding a cup and cheque to a crazy golf champion. I was flanked by Emma and Camilla who were playing my glamorous assistants. A bit amateurish, but fun nevertheless. And, as usual with any kind of filming, this took longer than estimated. As I walked up to Hammermsith station with Emma and Camilla, Emma mentioned that her sister was pl

Saw little George today. A year or so ago she came on a work placement, and I was drafted to take care of her. Since then she has graduated, but is not working in an agency and unfortunately I have not been able to offer her much help. It's tough getting a start as a writer. Her parents are from Kerala in South India and she is a tiny little thing with a big personality, and I really want her to succeed. She'll have her work cut out though, as a large majority of agency creatives, despite all the trappings of difference and trendiness, are mostly male, white and middle class. Home and talking to my beloved, and seeing signs of the Italian's thorough handiwork in the bathroom.

Read more of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell today on the train before growing heavy lidded about the eyes. Work fine and I was momentarily big and clever with the Chairman and MD. I wants it. I needs it. Precious ... Gloating over Anna's camera online today after Anton sent me the link and telephoning advice. This caused me to look at my bank balance on-line, which turned out to be very fortunate because some wretch has duplicated my bank card details and has used them nine times in restaurants in the Hammersmith area. Have had the card stopped and will get a refund, but still rather disconcerting to think that a sinister faux Peter Kenny has been wandering about the streets of Glamoursmith racking up £175 in Thai and Indian takeaways over the last week or so. Sent a submission of poems to a New York ezine. Also looked at a bag of helicopters again today. It is brilliant. The link is over there => Tonight Remo came around to discuss things such as the wrongness of Milan and

One advantage of having several time zones between you and your fiancée is that when you wake up filled with nameless dread in the middle of the night, you can go online and speak to her. January, as I have noted severally before, is the Monday of the year. So a January Monday is a surfeit of bleakness... I had to stand in the overcrowded train this morning from Brighton to Clapham Common, thus robbing me of my writing, reading and thinking time. Don't the swine care about stifling English Letters? Some ribaldry at work about Mark Oaten, a liberal democrat who has just withdrawn from his party's leadership contest after what he described as an "error of judgement": that of paying for sex for two years with a rent boy. Not a great look for a married father of two. Found myself entering the gents today with the Gnome. We passed large Graham who looked at us meaningfully, saying that he hoped neither of us would have an error of judgement. Off to Paddington this afterno

Poor whale croaked it in the Thames. Or as our cockney chums would have it... That whale was more than moby dick... it was brown bread. It had a pal it was spotted with earlier, shame they couldn't reach each other. Perhaps the authorities could have made some kind of podcast. Up with the lark and sensibly eating marmite on toast with Diane. Showed Diane the skull and crossbones drawn on the jar of yeasty goodness by MJ. This can be explained by MJ having wandered into the kitchen (she may have been lost) and scooping a teaspoon of it into her mouth a few months ago thinking it was a kind of chocolaty nutella spread. This followed by astonishingly wrongheaded Ew! noises and gagging in the sink. Di and me then nipped up the hill to see Janet and Ken for a nice cup of tea and a chat. Both on good form. Ken enraged by a TV programme yesterday about the French roots of Romanticism. Also talking about the translation he is working on. Janet on fine form too and very pleased to see Di a

A lovely day in Brighton. Tinkering early with poems, then striving to achieve first world hygiene standards before Di's visit. After all, I'm still in the first flush of having a functioning toilet again. Shortly after arriving, and imbibing quick coffee, Di set off to inspect Brighton. I headed off to the YMCA (where it's fun to be) in Hove. There Baby Klauds and several of her mates were having a party. Most of the adult attendees were members NCT group, and Anna had organised a party for them all as their babies' second birthdays were coincident. There was a mini playground set up with slides and little cars and things to bounce on and crawl through, and many nippers. As I walked in, Anton imperiously handed me Anna's camera. I took loads of photos of children with it and conceived a horrible yearning to have a camera just like it. I broke off only to eat multiple sausage rolls and cake and quaff fizzy pop. Managed also to talk to Brian (and co-dote on Baby Klau

This week's preoccupation with the river ended with news of a disoriented bottlenosed whale swimming up the Thames through central London. Didn't make it to Hammersmith, although it was only a few miles downstream. It was front page of the Evening Standard, tonight and featured on the national news. Picture I stole from the BBC below, with the whale swimming past the Houses of Parliament. As for me, somewhat foggy headed today. Stared blankly at the Guardian crossword on the train this morning, which I can usually complete. Managed to bluff my way through work, taking a walk down to the Crabtree with Pat to have a single beer with Sue and Paul who left today. Very happy for it to be Friday. Mary Jane inspired to write today and read me the start of a promising new poem. Her head is full of watery images at the moment. And dressing the children as snowflakes for their winter ball.

Late for work and irritable. However finished The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon on the train. Enjoyable, well-plotted story set in Barcelona -- although having been there I didn't find myself forcibly reminded of that city, despite the blurb playing this up. Mind you, my recollection is of a rather blurry place. But I was there on a very enthusiastic boozy, sleep-deprived, stag weekend. However I am proud to say that I played guitar in a flamenco bar, something I can't quite believe I did. Another walk along the river where I saw half a dozen noisy parakeets near Fulham's football stadium and briefly worried about the vocabulary these innocent birds will acquire. Quickly talked to MJ as I walked back to the office, who was looking at fluffy Valentine's toys in a shop. An absolutely mind-numbing meeting this afternoon. People sitting about with dead cod faces wishing they were a million miles away. Fortunately this torture was conducted on the fourth floor wit

Woke early this morning, and had time for an enjoyably civilizing cup of tea. Phoned on the tube by a panicking suit with some micro-crisis that had to be fixed in minutes. Amazing how a piece of junk mail can become a life and death matter. Close reading of the Jorie Graham poems. She has a way of tentatively testing and flexing the flow of what she is saying, that to some I am sure represents an exciting nearness to the stream of poetic thought. But for me it is just hard work with little reward. A randomly chosen bit... The opening to a poem called Philosopher's Stone shows this off (and is by no means the most extreme example). It's like this. There are quantities. There's on- goingness-- no--there's an underneath. Over it we lay time--actually more like takes and re- takes by the mind (eyes closed) then clickings of its opening-out and the mind fills with gazes--thousands over some visualizations--or some places if you wish--I wish--a few or no gazes over some (bec

Remo started to fix my bathroom today. What a relief. After work and a walk at lunch went to Sue and Paul's leaving do in the evening, which was at the Fire Station. They are currently sitting opposite me and the Gnome, reeking of freedom and the cheerfulness of a new start. I want one soon. Home late, after sleeping again on the train, and scored a Chinese meal.

Lively protest outside Brighton Station today by bicycle riders who are no longer allowed to take their bikes on the train to London. Asinine new ruling from the train company which has justly inflamed local feeling. On the train reading a book called Bad Thoughts, A guide to clear thinking , by Jamie Whyte. He is a philosopher who uses his training in logic to prick balloons of bad argument in a spirited and entertaining way.Enjoyed the bit about empty words, attacking jargon and meaninglessness in academic and business writing. This is a bête noir for me too. Whyte saves particular scorn for the word leverage , which is used constantly by saps in business. Personally I get more incensed by obfuscational academic writing. When the writer appears to be trying to prove their intelligence (or hide the paucity of their ideas) in high falutin' language, rather than pass on knowledge, which is surely the point of them being academics in the first place. Work, and the office is not bein

Long sleep last night. Got on with things busily this morning. At midday spoke to MJ and Weezer who were, in their charming accents, talking about going to something called the BO tanical gardens. Neptune menacing MJ as we spoke, muttering about fava beans despite him sporting the muzzle. I am feeling exceedingly proud of MJ. She has had a difficult week and come through with flying colours. That nice Weezer sent me a photo of the snowy conditions in Brooklyn, which you can see below. Meanwhile on the European side of the Atlantic after fiddling about with poems this morning I went out this afternoon with Anton who is off to France tomorrow. Walked around Brighton and down by the sea and popped into book and record shops. We called into the Lion and Lobster for a couple of beers and intensive chats. Anton lecturing me that I should get a fishing rod and tackle to catch mackerel, which I'd mentioned when I moved here a year ago. Seeing the pub with fresh eyes, and noticing how all

I have been typing up all my poems, regardless of quality, to put them in the computer rather than on hundreds of yellowing scraps of paper. It is a bit bittersweet, like looking through an old photograph album. I found this this poem Autumn Wood today, which I wrote when I was 19. It makes me think these things: I must have been a strange teenager the vaguely mystical, religious, philosophical stuff that preoccupied me then is pretty much the same as now, and that my journey has taken me not far from its starting point Walking on Hampstead Heath shortly after my birthday- a horrific 27 years and 3 months ago. Autumn wood (1978) There is no stopping the season's wheel We cling to its rim as best we can And fear our departure, that centrifugal Fling out into lifeless dust. Today it seems the heart Must make a choice, between plain facts Or a faith; to choose a new life Now that death's new rehearsal has begun, Or to fill the dust with angels And stare and stare until we touch t

Friday 13th. Fortunately, despite all other superstitions, the day holds no foreboding for me. Had fun working with Andy again. After an absurd mini brainstorm, we decided to use the green glow in the dark pigs which have been bred in Taiwan with a jellyfish gene. Handy for eating a bacon sarnie in the middle of the night. I was told that this blog was used as an example of the genre in a brief talk given by a colleague the other day. Fortunately I always avoid describing work or breaching client confidentiality and so on. I hope. Yikes. Popped outside to talk to MJ who was making me laugh a lot. She is very funny. After work walked with the French Bloke off to the Thatched house for a drink and meal with Kate and Matty boy. Really enjoy our gang. The FB doggedly and with little evident pleasure, quaffing diet cokes and mineral waters. Lots to catch up on, and I hadn't seen Matt for ages. Kate slogging on a pitch all week. Taranjit also dropped by later shortly before Kate and me l

Little sleep last night. However, I wrote a draft of another new poem I am pleased with in the train this morning. I am having quite a prolific spell. It is strange, but my commute is actually good for my writing. Best not to look the gift muse in the mouth -- and just get on with it. At work everything in bits and pieces and I am not feeling in control of my workflow. Queued in the bank for half an hour at lunch and spoke to MJ on my mobile as I walked by the river. I was pleased to hear that she was much more cheerful today. Decided against the Buddhism talk today. Had a strong & primitive urge to be at home, and couldn't face dragging across London and getting home really late again. Feel a bit bad to have missed this opportunity though. Home, and I found some vitamin pills that Mum had sent for me. They were from Guernsey, which is clearly good. I shall eat one tomorrow morning and be transformed.

Worked all day with Pat, Andy and the Gnome on a couple of projects. Spent the morning off site, and we four had lunch in the little Thai place again. Good fun, and we made some progress. Worried by MJ today, however, who was low and unhappy. This makes me feel very frustrated to be so far away from her. In the evening, however, I went off to Ealing to meet baby Tahlia and hung out with Max and the French Bloke. Tahlia is very sweet, and has a very expressive face. Michel said she is at the stage where lights and contrasts fascinate her, he also said she makes noises like a strangled orc, but sadly I missed those. He is very proud of her and was speaking to her in his mother tongue a bit. Lovely to see Max in such excellent shape mentally and physically. I enjoyed seeing her getting so much pleasure from bathing Tahlia, which they did downstairs and what they laughingly called "greasing the baby". That is massaging oil into her skin. Apparently when babies are late their skin

The Gnome back from his long holiday today. Strangely reassured to see him. All is well with his son, and his family had a good Christmas which I was pleased to hear. Otherwise fairly busy today at work. Hannah and Rosie had their leaving party tonight, which I'd forgotten all about. It was in the bar at work, and as well as hearing Rosie's eccentric and circular leaving speech it was a good opportunity to get to talk to some of the new young creatives. One of them, young Rob, I discover is going out with my friend Little George. Had a nice chat with Abi too, and we are being less guarded with each other now. Avoided going for a large curry with everyone, and headed off back to Brighton. Fell asleep and had the dreamlike experience of waking up in an empty train, and stepping from it onto an empty platform. Thank God Brighton is the end of the line. Home and I ate toasted crumpets with marmite, and listened to my bluegrass CD from Troy and Weezer, and phoned my MJ before bed.

Terrible sleep. Seemed to wake up every hour or so with my mind squirming like a can full of maggots over nothing in particular. Angsty on the train too, one of those mornings where the newspaper was hard to read. Work fine, however. Bits and pieces to do, but still nothing substantial. Enjoyed lunch in the local Thai with the French Bloke and got news about Max and the baby, who they have called Tahlia, which I think is an excellent name. I am going to meet Tahlia on Wednesday. Max taking it all in her stride apparently, and thinking about the next baby minutes after this one was born. Tahlia is born under a wandering star (as all good Sagittarians are) and has already spent a third of her life, the last ten days, on the road in the Winnebago. Michel is having a dry January, so we had two large bottles of Perrier with our Thai soup and noodles and so on. Despite having a restrained festive period, I am feeling very jaded so I need little encouragement not to drink either. Back to the

Slept late till almost 10. The weather grey and rainy. Got up and returned to a poem I had a couple of lines for on the plane, and I arrived at a fairly complete draft within a couple of hours. I am working fluently at the moment which I am pleased about. Later ventured outside into Brighton to do some shopping. I bought myself a cheap essential oil burner, and am writing this listening to Miles Davis and enjoying the soothing aroma of orange oil. Okay it is not the butchest thing I have ever done, but there you go. Phoned Mary Jane from the pier cafe today, where I sat drinking a warming cup of coffee. Her phone was hidden under the bed and she was grateful to find it when it rang. She told me that she'd been around at Lia's yesterday and the kids had made fortune cookies, which Jack had written sinister and funny messages. Today they are returning to Northport, where Jack was looking forward to stalking the bunnies in the graveyard. I suggested to MJ that he should read Water

Working quickly and easily on new poem on the train this morning. I was listening to the radio the other day about Ted Hughes. Someone was saying that they thought Hughes exaggerated how easily he wrote The Thought Fox . I didn't agree. Occasionally, like one of the two first poem I got published, a frightening 23 years ago, they come in one blurt. There seems nothing strange about this, sometimes ideas gestate without you being aware of it happening, and they just seem to write themselves. Keats often wrote very quickly. Brief work lunch with a few creatives and two eager and offensively talented new starters straight from college. Work and then quit for home as soon as decently possible, and then at 9.00pm after eating went out to find Anton in the Great Eastern pub at the bottom of Trafalgar street in Brighton. Had a good night with him, and some of the dads from his and Anna's ante-natal group. Nice bunch of guys. He has had a letter published in a hi fi magazine, but refus

Managed to get up early, feeling somewhat nauseous on the early train into London. Worked on a strange new poem trying not to think about vomiting. Arrived in time to go for a brainstorm with a charity client. As a warm up to the meeting we were invited to play a brisk table football tornament. Sometimes I think my job is quite cool. Then discussed the 1966 World Cup Final as part of the brief we were creating. This made me remember watching it with my grandfather David in Guernsey. He was delighted that England won. The occupation ended in 1945 so this was 21 years later, but I still think he especially enjoyed seeing the Germans lose. He gave me a shandy to celebrate. Compelled to work hard all day, and after hours a bit too until I hurried to the Blue Anchor to meet First Matie. She is a good friend and jolly good company. Enjoyed hearing about her trip back to the Forest of Dean and her Christmas. Really like the Blue Anchor on a winter night. We had a couple of cozy beers there be

My mobile phone, which I use as an alarm clock, did not detonate this morning. Woke up late at 8:20, so cleverly decided to turn a vice into a virtue and go to the quack. Having consulted the quack I sped into work off to work, arriving very late. After 40 minutes I headed out with Tracey for lunch. Her: a coffee, a water, and two cigarettes, me: a bowl of nasty natchos and a pint of Guinness. Swapped Christmas stories and moaned weakly but enjoyably about returning to work. Trace said that the day before, the 3rd of Jan, was statistically the most depressing day of the year. As if to confirm this, in the Metro newspaper there was a photo of a woman, a senior executive at Rolls Royce, mid air as she jumped from a tall building. Back to work punctually. The unreasonable swine have started to give me work to do again. As the Gnome is away still, it is all piecemeal bits of nonsense. Broke off to call MJ. Home and slipped up the road to see Janet and Ken. Lots of talking as usual,

Arrived fashionably late for work, but as there was nothing much to be done this morning it didn't get me in trouble. Buried the hatchet with Mandy, so things less fighty than I had imagined. Otherwise wrote a smidge for a utility company, and went out to buy a farm set which electronically moos, oinks and baas. I also got a nice email from Joan with a photo of Canadian snowiness, contrasting nicely with the view from my new desk: pearly grey mist over the Thames. This a vast improvement on my last desk where I had two bald blokes to look at. And talking of the foliclly challenged, spoke to Anton today, who was telling me about going to see Brighton Football Club play against Southampton. Apparently the Saints fans were singing "Does your boyfriend know you're out" as a reference to Brighton's Gay community. While the Brighton fans replied with "You're too ugly to be gay." Not been to a footie match for years, after a short spell of going to see Bren

Awake for an hour in the middle of the night reading The Shadow of the Wind . Back to sleep and a anxiety dream of being lost in a strange town, trying to understand how to use the local subway to find a hotel. So tired this morning that I had to have about three cups of coffee before I could speak. Mason advancing theories about generating power from the sea at some length. Cheery breakfast with Mum and Mase then travelled back down to Brighton. Lovely to be home after living out of a suitcase for the last two weeks. Relieved that the place hadn't flooded or something ghastly hadn't happened. Did lots of laundry and bought some food. Had a chat with MJ, now back in Kings Park with the children. Went out in the evening to the Food for Friends vegetarian restaurant, just around the corner from the Friends Meeting House. Sophie and Andros and their nippers Cristof and Electra were in Brighton and they took me out for a nice meal. Cristof is 12 and Electra will be 8 in February. F

My resolution is the same as it has been over the last few years: wholeheartedness. Very nice day spent with Mum and Mase in Edgware. After breakfast I randomly picked up a copy of Tennyson's poems which I stole from my school library when I was twelve, and discovered in it my Grandmother's funeral notice from the Guernsey Press in summer '91. My mum had put it somewhere safe and it had been lost. Felt quite odd coming on the back of the three recent dreams I've had about her. Perhaps she is trying to tell me something. Mum and me went for an enjoyable hour or so walk and talk around Edgware, which also freed up up my back nicely -- and returned home to watch an afternoon film called Hello Again with Shelley Long, about a woman who returns from the grave after a year and a day. Spoke to MJ and Weezer who had returned from Coney Island having seen Troy plunge into the water along with members of the Polar Bear club. Also spoke to Janet and Anton and Sophie. Ate loads in