Zaffrani and skellys

Spent Friday back with my skeleton story, which seems easy and much less intense than working on the poems. I have missed thinking about Skelton Yawngrave. The poems and this story come from entirely different sub-personalities, and you'd be hard pressed to say that they were written by the same person.

Arranged for a yearly check up at my doctors next week. As a hypochondriac the prospect of this is appalling. I'd rather eat a cactus. Also arranged for an eye test as I am fretting about my eyes. Sigh. The thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.

In the afternoon broke off for a swim. The pool was stuffed full of people including several larger dugong-like gentlemen like me. However I persisted for half an hour or so, nosing hopefully for seagrasses, and felt fairly good for it.

Brighton exuberant this evening as Lorraine and I walked through the streets, as this is the Pride weekend. For us however, the now traditional Cricketers & curry combo. The Agra restaurant does splendid zaffrani dishes, hot and cooked with saffron, which I find myself increasingly partial to.