Up to the smoke for supper
Had an interesting conversation this morning with a micro publisher called Paul in Brighton, and we will meet up in a couple of weeks to discuss my various projects. He was very much of the opinion that a physical book is just one outlet, and that you should empower yourself. This is my philosophy too, but I dream of a time when I can just focus on the writing and not the hustling.
Bitty bits of work today, and answering lots of emails from people saying happy birthday. Also got cards from Paddy and Shaila, old school friends, which was nice. Spoke to Bob who has had pneumonia and is on antibiotics after his swine flu.
In the evening up to London to meet up with the folks from my old agency who I have been working with again lately. These include my pal Al and Helen who had been close colleagues. We met at Franco's just below Piccadilly. While it was good to catch up on the gossip with some old friends, I hated the restaurant. Unfriendly staff, pricey average grub. Al ended up in a tetchy debate over a dry and tasteless chocolate cake.
Walked back to Victoria, following the curved, barbed wired wall of Buckingham Palace grounds as I did so, while listening to School Food Punishment. Arrived home to Brighton at midnight having fiddled with a poem most of the way home on my crotchtop.
Had an interesting conversation this morning with a micro publisher called Paul in Brighton, and we will meet up in a couple of weeks to discuss my various projects. He was very much of the opinion that a physical book is just one outlet, and that you should empower yourself. This is my philosophy too, but I dream of a time when I can just focus on the writing and not the hustling.
Bitty bits of work today, and answering lots of emails from people saying happy birthday. Also got cards from Paddy and Shaila, old school friends, which was nice. Spoke to Bob who has had pneumonia and is on antibiotics after his swine flu.
In the evening up to London to meet up with the folks from my old agency who I have been working with again lately. These include my pal Al and Helen who had been close colleagues. We met at Franco's just below Piccadilly. While it was good to catch up on the gossip with some old friends, I hated the restaurant. Unfriendly staff, pricey average grub. Al ended up in a tetchy debate over a dry and tasteless chocolate cake.
Walked back to Victoria, following the curved, barbed wired wall of Buckingham Palace grounds as I did so, while listening to School Food Punishment. Arrived home to Brighton at midnight having fiddled with a poem most of the way home on my crotchtop.
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