All's well that ends in the Eddy
Grey damp cold weather. Started the day in a grey damp cold mood too, feeling decidedly out of sorts in many ways. Retreated to working on poems but simply breaking them the more effort I put into them. Gave up in disgust. Waiting for the wet weather to abate so that I could paint over the fresh graffiti on my green fence.
Much solidarity in the Twitten, though, chatted to some of my neighbours further along as I was painting it out in the evening. There is now talk of a CCTV camera which may be a deterrent of some sort.
However cheered up progressively as the day went on. Lorraine and I went for a long walk and talk along the seafront, which made me feel much better. Then we had a cheeky late lunch in a tiny and delightful tapas place opposite the Corn Exchange. A beany tapas was absolutely ace. Like Guernsey bean jar but curiously thick and full of garlic, and we had some really nice house red wine. I want to produce the ultimate Guernsey bean jar - but will learn from the dark arts of people from other lands if I have to.
In the evening I went out to meet Anton in the Eddy, for a long chat and a few beers. The place as lively as ever and we had long chats and the usual banter about all kinds of stuff. Top end to the day. Unruly moods eh? As Wordsworth puts it 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"
Poor dears, poets.
Grey damp cold weather. Started the day in a grey damp cold mood too, feeling decidedly out of sorts in many ways. Retreated to working on poems but simply breaking them the more effort I put into them. Gave up in disgust. Waiting for the wet weather to abate so that I could paint over the fresh graffiti on my green fence.
Much solidarity in the Twitten, though, chatted to some of my neighbours further along as I was painting it out in the evening. There is now talk of a CCTV camera which may be a deterrent of some sort.
However cheered up progressively as the day went on. Lorraine and I went for a long walk and talk along the seafront, which made me feel much better. Then we had a cheeky late lunch in a tiny and delightful tapas place opposite the Corn Exchange. A beany tapas was absolutely ace. Like Guernsey bean jar but curiously thick and full of garlic, and we had some really nice house red wine. I want to produce the ultimate Guernsey bean jar - but will learn from the dark arts of people from other lands if I have to.
In the evening I went out to meet Anton in the Eddy, for a long chat and a few beers. The place as lively as ever and we had long chats and the usual banter about all kinds of stuff. Top end to the day. Unruly moods eh? As Wordsworth puts it 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"
Poor dears, poets.
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