Pressing on

Woke up at six and, as it was a me day, I simply got up and began work on my poems. Slightly dreary weather today, but I spent hours making some excellent progress. Odd to look at your watch at 10am and think that you have already done three and a half hours work. In the afternoon I shifted operations to Costa Coffee as this small change of scene seems to work disproportionately well, especially as my eyes are tired, after almost unbroken squinting at my computer since Sunday.

This evening, I had a long chat with the Cat with the Hat who is going to force me to wheel out my shabby French as his Francophone son is coming over to stay shortly. He was yearning after the kinds of philosophical debate he had in his youth in France, and threatening to reinstate them here which is slightly alarming.

Went out with Lorraine this evening whose kids are both abroad. She'd just had had her back cracked , and we slid off to have a pizza in Zizzi. I felt brain dead however, and was less than the full Oscar Wilde when it came to quippery.

So instead we vegged on the sofa watching an excellent TV series called Tribal Wives, which transplants British women for a month into remote communities. Fascinating stuff, especially as each woman has some sort of issue she wants to confront during the visit - for example in this episode Lana was a recovering alcoholic. Well worth a watch.