A working Saturday

Up at Lorraine's house. Porridge, and then home to do more work on the big wesbite I was briefed on. Subject: arterial fibrillation and strokes - perfect hypochondriacal fare. Also a poem emerged from thin air, which was pleasing.

Spoke to Matt who has had a vile cold all week and, apart from dragging himself off to work, had a reclusive week. However he was talking about setting some of my Guernsey poems this week for our CD due to be recorded later this year. The boy who fell upwards is the first candidate. Be fascinated to see what it sounds like to music.

L and I, after a relaxed afternoon on the gold sofa, off to see Dawn this evening. She is now doing her PhD and is studying how people dealt with fear, focusing on the postwar period and the start of the cold war. She cooked us a lovely healthy meal, finished by delicious stewed plums, which seemed a feast to us. Lorraine also had a glass or two of wine but I retained the moral high ground, for if you booze you looze. I couldn't help noticing, however, that she seemed to quite enjoy it. After a lovely night with Dawn who is a gem, Lorraine and I walked back to my place, the waning moon with a halo around it.