All smoke and no fire
Working hard as a looming two weeks in London forced me to fix a lot of loose ends. Poems for a competition, finalising a small companion Sketch to Wrong for Beth and Mark. It is called A bite to eat and is a glimpse into the domestic life of a zombie couple, one of whom is a bit of a hypochondriac. Also a quick squiz at Beth's personal statement for her University entrance plus some business admin. But in the evening when the agency finalized the details, I was told the two-week sentence has been commuted to three days - which barely interferes with anything. Yippee!
Off to gym, sweaty and with less energy this time. Trundling on the hulk legs machine still better than braving the persistent grey mizzle outside.
Guernsey is calling its errant son again. Especially after having a long gossip, full of chuckles, with Richard and Jane. They have big plans this year, which my famous discretion forces me to pass over in silence. Meanwhile Jane has been seeking another writer for the Literary Festival, she has made two choices, both apparently resulting in the sudden and mysterious deaths of the invitees.
To Lorraine's house for supper with her and Beth. Curly kale, and carrots, a smidge of potato and onion stovie and some grilled lean pork. A hearty meal. Lorraine now saying she has lost half a stone. Lorraine, Beth and I hanging out in the kitchen area of their big open plan downstairs. Beth glammed and teetering on heels to be snapped as entry for a Lorraine Kelly curvy model competition. As I took some snaps, the grill, which is inside the oven, started gouting smoke and the three of us ran about ineffectually waving things under the fire alarms. Added a certain smouldery lustre to the photoshoot.
Home to look after a forlorn Calliope who is moping about with one of her eyes closed. Off to the vets with her this Saturday.
Working hard as a looming two weeks in London forced me to fix a lot of loose ends. Poems for a competition, finalising a small companion Sketch to Wrong for Beth and Mark. It is called A bite to eat and is a glimpse into the domestic life of a zombie couple, one of whom is a bit of a hypochondriac. Also a quick squiz at Beth's personal statement for her University entrance plus some business admin. But in the evening when the agency finalized the details, I was told the two-week sentence has been commuted to three days - which barely interferes with anything. Yippee!
Off to gym, sweaty and with less energy this time. Trundling on the hulk legs machine still better than braving the persistent grey mizzle outside.
Guernsey is calling its errant son again. Especially after having a long gossip, full of chuckles, with Richard and Jane. They have big plans this year, which my famous discretion forces me to pass over in silence. Meanwhile Jane has been seeking another writer for the Literary Festival, she has made two choices, both apparently resulting in the sudden and mysterious deaths of the invitees.
To Lorraine's house for supper with her and Beth. Curly kale, and carrots, a smidge of potato and onion stovie and some grilled lean pork. A hearty meal. Lorraine now saying she has lost half a stone. Lorraine, Beth and I hanging out in the kitchen area of their big open plan downstairs. Beth glammed and teetering on heels to be snapped as entry for a Lorraine Kelly curvy model competition. As I took some snaps, the grill, which is inside the oven, started gouting smoke and the three of us ran about ineffectually waving things under the fire alarms. Added a certain smouldery lustre to the photoshoot.
Home to look after a forlorn Calliope who is moping about with one of her eyes closed. Off to the vets with her this Saturday.
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