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 Watership Down.

There is a sort of revelling to be done once you accept that things are going to be entirely grey. There are shades of grey after all. And I enjoyed lurking about in the rain, and took some grey and rainy photos.

In the late afternoon I spoke to Mum and then headed off up the road to see Anton and Anna and give Baby Klauds her Christmas presents. Good to see Anna again. She is looking blooming. Anton cooked some wonderful belly of pork and we had a really nice time. He is still strangely paranoid about the letter, which Anna refers to as an article, in the Hi Fi magazine. And he got touchy when I innocently asked Anna in which magazine the article features.

Baby Klauds enjoyed the mooing and baaing farm I bought, and the American children's books I chose with MJ. Anton and Anna gave me Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, the novel by Susanna Clarke which Anton listened to on his ipod, and Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries, which is about food and is clearly big and clever. His idea for the 8th of January is rhubarb. A splendid idea. I've not eaten rhubarb for ages.

Having an Italian guy come around tomorrow to look at my pipes. God bless him.

Nice call from Di, who is toying with the idea of a move to Brighton. Also email from Weezer. And messaged The French Bloke who'd been travelling around the country in the pimpmobile and will see him tomorrow and see the new bairn later in the week. He said he was not drinking this January, which Matty boy seems also to be doing. Last week he emailed me with a last minute invite to eat cheese in Shepherds Bush. He said he has been drinking so much tea that he can't sleep.

Photos... Brighton pier above, and Baby Klauds -- just for a change!