under another sun

Blue screen of death Was what greeted me shortly after starting work. I think I have fixed the problem now, but essentially it took up my whole day, backing up everything as a precaution, and then scouring the Internet for solutions, running diagnostics and so on. Bah. Becoming acutely aware of the need to add to the Kenny coffers and the prospect of having to fork out for a new computer not best timed. Managed little snippets of work between all this too. Much happier evening. Went off to the other side of town to the Hartington pub in the company of Lorraine and Dawn. There we met Richard and Dipak, now styling themselves as The Shakespeare Trio , Richard's missus Maria Grazia, and Glen. Richard and Dipak were great, Dipak on sparkling form - mostly new work I'd not heard - despite the PA being somewhat ropey. Lots of other interesting stuff, including a man tapdancing on a board jamming with a violinist and guitarist. One or two fine female voices, and lots of hairy old blo

A green interlude Woke up with a hangover at 6:30, but I had slept heavily undisturbed by the party nearby which continued well into the following afternoon. Got up after a while, left Lorraine sleeping and started a new jaded poem about drinking, called A quiet drink . In the afternoon off to Wakehurst Place, a beautiful place, belonging to Kew Gardens. Slightly overcast and humid this afternoon, and we sniffed up the green and fragrant air greatfully. Wandered about, past the vast ark of the seed bank, and into the wooded areas. Spent a happy hour or two wandering about here, taking the odd photo and Lorraine touching all the plants and looking greedily into their flowers. Below became a little obsessed with twisty Oaks branches today. We will return.

Cider in the country Up early this morning and wrote a new poem in about two minutes, and it is good. Experience tells you of course, that you have to let these things settle for a while. But I have never written a poem so fast. It is called Predator and left me feeling on a bit of a high during the day. In the late afternoon off to Beth's pal Kayleigh's 21st birthday party, swerving by Mark's place to collect him and Richard and Glenda. Off into the countryside, driving along narrow roads with dozens of rabbits in the verges. Pleasant garden party with a barbecue, lots of nice people with singing interludes from Mark, who wrote a song for Kayleigh with a hangover this very morning, and other performances from Betty, Amy, Jo and others. All rather good fun. I mainly drank cider with Richard and Glenda and other guests, and waxed exceedingly loquatious until shepherded into the car by Lorraine. Richard and Glenda singing Strangers in the Night in the back as the entirely s

Jaguar-faced Mum Up this morning chatting with Mum, and taking photos of her with her masks. One of which sparkled a bit to replicate fireflies. Then a hasty toast breakfast before Lorraine, Mum and I hoofed up the hill to Janet's house where Mum was making an exhibition of herself. Hung out chatting to Ken and Janet, Huss and some other exhibitors for some time, and Lorraine and I were just making good our escape when Robert, Tanya and Mason pulled up in the car outside. Lorraine jumped in and guided them to a parking spot, and Mason came back with me. Lots more chatting, and soon joined again by the rest. Mason had been dreaming about the burgers in The Sussex Yeoman round the corner from me, so we left Mum to do her stint and hang out with her artist brethren, and Lorraine, Mase Robert and Tanya made off and ate Yeoman burgers. These like meaty cannonballs, which were great but left you wanting nothing much for the rest of the day. Robert very sad about his sister, who has cance

A breakthrough Another day anxiously rushing about in the morning, sending invoices, and a last minute entry to a poetry competition, and working through a list of things to do to help me feel in control again. Today I filed away all my bills, and utility correspondence, bank statements etc. for the last few months. Quite pleased to do this as I noticed one of the bills I thought I had been paid, hadn't been and was in fact a 'solicitor's letter'. Was able to pay this before the water was cut off to my house. Then an extraordinary thing happened. I had an image for a poem in my head and sat down and biffed it out in one go. It is very different and I looked at it afterwards in a kind of wonder. It is a Peter Kenny poem but a very different sort of Peter Kenny poem. It is called Autobiography of a Hermit Crab . Mum arrived this afternoon bearing jaguar masks. Lots of chats and cups of tea, and at five we drifted down to The Basketmakers where we met Matt, bearing an enve

Raining poets in London Sleeping-pill assisted sleep made me feel much improved today, although still unaccountably edgy. But cut through things quickly, sent copies of Defenders off to an agent and to Shaun Shackleton at the Guernsey Press. Also contacted The Sussex Beacon about the CD project, went to see Adrian and Diane about photographs, taking in dozens of spangly high heels Adrain is shooting. Was made a lovely cup of coffee and had a nice chat with both. Off to London, plans changing at the last moment so took myself amid torrential rain to the poetry library in The Royal Festial Hall. Had a strange sequence of coincidences all relating to people I knew really well in the early 90s. Wandered over at random to pick up a copy of Acumen and it fell open at a poem by Rhona McAdam, an old friend. Next magazine I picked up it fell open at a review of the excellent iTuplips by Mario Petrucci, another old friend. Wandered aimlessly along the shelves and Tim Gallagher's Narcissus G

Preponderance of the small Insomnia again. Woke up at two, suddenly wide awake and full of unfounded panic. When this abated, my brain booted up, forcing me eventually to get up and list the things merry-go-rounding in my wide awake head. This helped and I had another hour's sleep. Lorraine brought me a tea, and blearily shopped before returning home. I clunked poor Calliope's head as I opened my front door, but she seemed none the worse for it. A day of small jobs: hard to work through a veil of tiredness. I had a haircut, luckily the walrus-faced barber wasn't there, and I was quite pleased with the result. Otherwise a day of throwing pebbles into an unplinking pool. Reading an interesting book Anton lent me this evening: Atlas of Remote Islands , by Judith Schalansky. Beautifully designed book which perhaps hints at the future of books versus electronic books. As highly crafted objects of beauty. As a bonus the content rather nice too, the histories of remote islands as

FB'd by La Barbarie Fairly productive. Finished the new words for the last song on the Pollard/Kenny CD -- and later talked to Matt who is finally nailing the final rehearsal dates. Got a note from Andrew Coleman at La Barbarie. They now have a facebook page www.facebook.com/labarbariehotel and Andrew was gave a nice account of Defenders on the page. Worked on Betty the Spacegirl and pushed on with some business leads. To the gym, followed by a tofu-based lunch. Out for a coffee with Anna this afternoon. Lovely coffee. She showed me the text of her book on coaching people about the choices presented around having babies, and the first years of parenthood. Looking good. Anna's been slogging till midnight lately getting it all ready, and I was impressed with the results. Home again to wait for a bloke to appear with a quote for decking, some time after he was due he texted explaining he'd send someone around next week. Slightly beset by gloom and non-specific twitching toda

Ah Um Edgy today: I blame the stars. Best to be busy, so I got busy invoicing, buying stamps and envelopes, going to the bank, posting a book to Amazon,talking to people about decking, following a business lead, arranging a London trip later this week and all the other chores that flesh is heir to. Also rewriting the words on a piece Matt and I are doing. In the evening up the hill to babysit for Anton and Anna as today was their eighth wedding anniversary. They sloped down to Chilli Pickle for a slap up feed and gin and tonics. While I had fun with Klaudia and Oskar reading stories, while Klaudia shone a red light on everyone to find out if we had blood. Found a particularly bad book called Puddle the Naughtiest Puppy which finally had the desired soporific effect. Stole downstairs and listened to Mingus Ah Um , and the track Goodbye Pork Pie Hat half a dozen times. Lovely piece. Also read some poems by Mario Petrucci, i Tulips which are humblingly good. Then a bit of TV. Anton and

Oaks with Katie Up early with an itchy sense of must get on with things. Marched back to my house from Lorraine's sat down at my desk and realised my glasses were at her house. What is it about having to retrace steps that is so appalling? Even if I realise I have left something at home just a few yards down the twitten, those backwards steps fill me with rage and loathing far beyond the actual inconvenience. Worked on bits and pieces to do with This concert will fall in love with you , before being collected again by Lorraine and driven out into the wilds guided by the satnav, to where First Matie lives, in a village called Warnham. She has a lovely garden with a tree in it, and nearby was a big oak, which the wind was sounding through. (My new obsession.) Off to the sturdily named The Sussex Oak for Sunday Lunch. Decided to sit outside in the beer garden, but it instantly began raining on the parched land and we returned inside. Kate on good form and cheerful, which was lovely t

Mindmap with cats In need of several teas this morning. Up at Lorraine's place and then we both wandered back to mine. Began a huge mindmap of all the million things I need to do before L and I can move together. This involves things like redoing decking, and talking to banks, and learning how to rent places and a dozen other things way beyond the outer limits of my comfort zone. Worst of all is Calliope, who sat with us batting my pen. I don't know how she is going to rub along with Basil and Brian. Vets have to be consulted, and plug in pheromone things bought to soothe the transition. Maybe I need a human version of that too. Popped up to see Janet again, and hand her a belated birthday card. Lots of people streaming through her show, though few bigger ticket items were bought. In the evening back to Lorraine's, where she cooked up an incredibly nice meal and we had Dawn around. Sam was also there, so the four of us had dinner, Sam on good form especially about politics.

Earworms and Queen Victoria Some French work this morning, writing about the joys of hepcat music concerts in Southern France. Anton tormenting today. Trying to get me to download a audiobook by Terry Pratchett called Pyramids, I eventually relented. Also the previous night he had played me a psychobilly version of the Joe 90 children's show, which has been an infuriating earworm all day and I have been wandering about singing it. Fiddling about with my personal site and my other blog which is now called peter kenny the notebook and is going to be 100 times better as a repository of all my adventures in writing. Off in the late afternoon to meet Catherine Pope for a beer in the basketmakers. Really interesting chat with her. We were soon joined by Matt and had an enjoyable few beers which were definitely not in my plans for a leaner skinnier Peter Kenny. Catherine is steadily republishing out-of-print Victorian novels. She is a Victorianist, and an all round very nice and interes

A bit of a buzz Calliope has a buzzing mouth again. She enters with a thoughtful look on her face, and when the fly escapes, she hurtles recklessly around the room until the fly no longer works. By evening the floor is littered with corpses. There was so much noise at one point I thought someone was trying to break into the house, and I went downstairs and found the weasel hanging half way up a net curtain. Worked on the wind poem, called Wind Raga, faffed in Cyberspace and started writing Invaders of Guernsey as the whole story is in my head. Just before bedtime, however, noticed an absolute howler in the text of Defenders, which was a bit depressing. Back to the gym this afternoon. Felt harder going today, and was sweaty. I walked in through the gym's swipe card turnstile, which didn't work. As I was trapped there, the boy on the desk said 'What are your goals?' and then 'what are your targets?' as if I hadn't understood him. He was trying to upsell me t

Lost in cyberspace Another day rationalising my sites and blogs, and dealing with those 'with whom I am in correspondence'. This blog will be unchanged, though I will filter more of the writing stuff into my other blog renamed peter kenny: the notebook . This kind of cyber faffing is a thief of time, as my sites and so on are a bit of a rabble. Also happily tinkering with a poem about the wind. (NB not the gastric sort.) Wrote to Catriona and Tony in Guernsey with supportive notes about the festival. Spoke to La Duchesse Jane who told me some of the toe-curling details of the final Festival party, which went badly wrong and everyone in a huff. And spoke to Matt, busy cat herding musicians for our rehearsals, and to Anton who invited me up tomorrow evening. Otherwise a trip to the gym to enliven matters. And later popped into the pub to hang with the musos. Principally Steve, Glen, Richard G, and Adam. Got involved in a bit of an incident, as a retired man who had been attending

Taking stock First day back from Guernsey, and plenty to be getting on with. I am having a major re-think of my cyber presence... As there is too much and it's all too complicated. I spent most of the day and night sorting these out. Typically my weight peaked in Guernsey when there were cameras and people looking at me, so I am now back on a much more rigourous diet. Mostly however I think a few days where Richard and I managed a BBC radio appearance and three poetry readings. It was excellent to work with Richard as usual. It it's good to approach these things with a friend whose work you admire. Additionally I did my two Skelton Yawngrave sessions, a poetry cafe reading and some protracted networking and with the best part of 160 Skelton Yawngrave stories now in the island's schools. Thanks to the Guernsey Literary Festival I arrive home full of a revived interest in poetry, in Mervyn Peake, in the poetry of Caroline Carver, the singing of Olivia Chaney and much much mo

Home from home Last morning at La Barbarie . A good night's sleep again, thank God. The full Guernsey breakfast was followed by a call to St Martin's Primary. I also called the number that was given me by Mary last night, speaking to the father of a boy who had lost his copy of Defenders on the way home. I arranged for the parents to pick one up from the hotel. Once packed Lorraine and I went to my old school and donated the remaining copies of Defenders of Guernsey to it. A strange feeling of coming full circle, returning to my first-ever school during play time, boys running at a bank of earth and somersaulting mid-air. Then paid my respects to La Gran'mère . Lorraine then left to work on the laptop, while I sorted out a new flower holder for my grandparents grave. Added white carnations and with some left over, added carnations to other family graves. The newest grave, not yet with a headstone, had a woman tending it. The name was Marquis, which is my Guernsey family

Three Peakes and a harbour A great night's sleep, and fantastic not to be seeing the world through a veil of exhaustion. Detailed conversation about Leicester Tigers rugby club, by two guests who had adopted Lorraine yesterday. I found myself fresh out of cheerful sports banter department before I'd even had a cup of tea. Lorraine and I took a transcendentally beautiful walk under a perfect blue sky to Icart and around and down to Saints Harbour. I rarely find myself there, so took a several photographs. A slow walk back up the hill, listening to the water running down the valley and the birdsong, before returning to the hotel for a fast sandwich before catching the bus into town. This afternoon The Poetry Café, crammed full of poets -- Caroline Carver (who I rather like as a person) plus bus prize winners, and some locals I recognised. Some good interesting poetry going on, and I read a couple of poems too. Just over halfway through Lorraine and I realised we were about to be

A town full of poets Insomnia: woke at 1am and did not sleep again till 6am. While I at last snoozed, Lorraine stole away, had breakfast, and returned with with a bacon sarnie in a bag. Groggily up and hoofed onto the bus into town. Popped into the library with three copies of Defenders of Guernsey . The librarian Maggie recognised me, and was pleased to take the books. Then Richard and I gave our final reading from A Guernsey Double in the inflatable hub in the Market. Catriona was press-ganged into introducing us. I felt more pleased with my reading today, though we found it noisier than our previous sessions, but I think we were both more relaxed. Bloney motorbikes. A small but select audience, including the poet Caroline Carver and Marylin, aka Guernsey Girl, who I have met through blogging. Caroline was kind enough to buy our book. Lorraine, and I joined Richard and Caroline in Richard’s van and went up to Elizabeth College, which I had never been in before, where Caroline was

The cry of a ghostly goat Prepared for my biggest day by having a terrible night’s sleep, and by being fragile from the from the fiendish pink wine served at the Gold Sponsor’s Reception. Woke up feeling nervous: had a rushed nervous breakfast, and nervously rode on the bus into town with Lorraine and a heavy case full of books, laptop and so on. Stunningly beautiful day again, and was pleased that Friday 13th was the perfect day to launch Defenders of Guernsey on an unsuspecting world. Lorraine utterly fab this morning. Liaising with the technical guy getting the laptop plugged into a large screen and also talking to teachers. This freed me to do the vital work of pacing about nervously. Children from Vauvert school arrived in bright red jumpers and settled down. Lorraine did a special hands up finger wiggling thing, which hypnotised all the children instantly. First we played the talking skull head video I’d recorded welcoming them to the event. I’d put in sound file behind it calle

Kick off Up early and a light breakfast before jumping on the bus to go into town. From there walked north along the shining Belle Greve Bay till I reached the BBC buildings. Riccardo outside and we marched in shoulder to shoulder. A lovely chat with Jenny as usual and we had a good 25 minutes on the JKT show with her. She is a lovely broadcaster, and we got in a great plug for Defenders of Guernsey too. Jenny has been consistently fabulous to Richard and myself. It's great to be with Richard too, we are developing into something of double act. Into town then, and Richard and I sloped off to the hub, which was on Market Terrace, and looked great. Lots of people to chat to, and I met Gabi who edits Island Ink, for the first time. Lorraine arrived as I was mid networking fury. She and I snuck away to Dixneuf for French bistro where I consumed the French speciality fish and chips. Kick off for Richard and I, reading from A Guernsey Double in the hub. A well attended reading, and we

Off to Guernsey Any day I fly to Guernsey is a good day. Our flight was at six so spent the day running about sorting the house out for Pat and Maureen's stay, and collecting together all the things I need to take, and packing books into cases and hoping that Lorraine would make it back from work in time. Also went to the gym. In the end, all well. And the journey to Gatwick fine. Was cringing about the heavy cases, stuffed with 160 copies of Defenders of Guernsey but in the event didn't have to pay extra for them. I like Auringy, and any plane that has a giant puffin on it gets my vote. However there was a chartered replacement from another airline today, and the pilot flew in eccentrically to the island and landed heavily. Rather pleased to be on dry land. Reading about the Literary Festival in the Guernsey Press while mid-air. Richard and I were mentioned as 'local scribes', still it was better than nothing, which is what we have previously received from the Press.

Fly with a blue behind Zooming through my 'to-do' list today, most of it focused on the children's sessions on Friday morning. This involved making a video of myself as a talking skull introducing the children's session, and collecting the booklets from the printer. Slightly disappointed with the result, and some conversations with the printers afterwards. They are the simplest kind of booklet, staple bound in the middle, but when left to their own devices tend to spring open. Apparently they will settle down if I keep them in their boxes. Nevertheless I am pleased that I have managed to produce them so quickly, and the story works and will I hope be well received on the island -- if I can get them on the plane. To the gym this afternoon. Need to get back into a tighter routine when I return from the gem of the sea as have found myself unaccountably hungry. Popped over to Matt's place primarily to meet his sister Kris, who was as nice a Hull lass as you could wish t

Defenders on the brink Off to the printer this morning to sign off Defenders of Guernsey , and get them to accomodate the corrections. All fine. Looking good and I am pleased with it. Home and after a long chat with Mum off to do a bit of sweating in the gym. Afternoon spent organising clips for the presentation, and working my way through my list of things to do. Watched an reasonably scholarly programme BBC 2 Timewatch Special on the archeological case for Santorini as being the origin of the Atlantis legend. Have been very interested in Atlantis lately. In the evening off to see Photographic Memory by David Sheppeard. A gay-themed and discursive piece which I found interesting on memory and identity. Handily this was in the Nightingale Theatre which is about 20 yards from my house. I know David through the Marlborough Theatre. Below the proof copy snapped on a table at the printers.

Pots and pottering Up to make final amends to Defenders of Guernsey . I find the business of making these amends very stressful. The aim is perfection, but I cannot attain it in the timescale I inflicted on myself. I worked at the Architect's Journal as a sub-editor for a month, and even when copy has been seen by a writer, a team of sub-editors, and the magazine's Editor howlers still snuck through. Then off to the Diva show again where in a Frazieresque way I bought two small but exquisite pots by Jutka Fisher. Lorraine buying pots too. I blame my recent enthusiasm for pots and ceramics on Janet (who has long had one of Jutka's jugs on her fireplace which I have long admired). For years I have preferred paintings and photography and flat images. These days I find myself equally drawn to pots. Anyhow, Janet cheerily said that over 200 people went to her open house last year, and they were on course for doing better today. A low key afternoon. A bout of Sainsbury's shop

Divas Much needed rain last night, enjoyed hearing it falling on Lorraine's velux windows. Beth and Lorraine off to London for Beth's audition at The Drama Centre in London. Beth somewhat stressed as they departed. I returned home and quietly set about working on Betty the Spacegirl and prevented people being lascerated as they walk past my front garden by exuberant roses which have flowered and doubled in size in about a week. A vase of cut roses in my front room. Nice chat with my neighbour Alex and his mother. Later, while I was working I had my window open and could hear Calliope getting huge attention, and saw her rolling on her back while people cooed over her and tickled her tummy. Fresh from this, the atrocious weasel ran into my house, jumped onto my desk and bit my hand quite hard. Cats have two faces. At lunchtime to Janet's house to check all was well as she opened Diva, her first open house. Everything immaculately organised, and looking good. Two of the artis

A spot of hanging Business and admin to do this morning, amazing how things mount up after I've been in monomaniac mode. In the afternoon off to Janet's house to help with a bit of hanging, and general milling about before her Open House exhibition 'Diva' kicks off tomorrow. Good chat with Ken's son in law Huss who is exhibiting some rather fine mosaic, fused glass and light combinations. Hung up one or two of Mum's paintings too. Off then to meet Betty and Mark to discuss our latest Marlborough Theatre wheezes on 17th and 19th June. We are going to do Wrong again, plus Betty the Spacegirl , which I am now starting, plus a promising idea Mark is putting together about a Pirate. Should be lots of fun. Naturally had this meeting in the Basketmakers, where by law most artistic conversations must be conducted. Beth also twitching slightly over her audition tomorrow for the Drama Centre, a prestigious thesp school in London. Lorraine off to the funeral of her friend

A sigh of relief Finally finished Defenders of Guernsey and got the files off to the printers. Mentally exhausted racing to meet this deadline. However I am pleased with the results. To the gym as an antidote to tense hunching over screens day and night. It felt great. Thence to the polling station, to vote in the council elections, and in the voting reform referendum. I voted yes to change, but only because there wasn't a "er...probably" box to tick. The polling station not exactly thronging when I arrived there a little after four. Campaigns on both sides of the argument full of backbiting and lousily conducted. Maybe it is my age, but the current crop of politicians seem like Lilliputians. Not sure which of the leaders of the three main parties nauseates me more. Thence to The Basketmakers to meet Matt for pints of Seafarers beer. Got talking to a friend of Matt's called Joe who was in a late incarnation of a group called Stereolab some of whose tracks are rather

Laying out Working from seven thirty this morning till gone nine today. However I have laid out Defenders of Guernsey , and had my story proofed by Catherine who described herself as a Comma Martinet. Very grateful to have my story looked at by someone so accomplished. She really liked it too, which was a bonus. A short walk for half an hour this lunchtime just to breathe a bit, and a stroll to the pub this evening. But my usual Wednesday boys weren't there, so I came home after a single sharpener. Once home realised I was so tired that I had left my Crackberry in the Pub. Pegged back there, and it was safe behind the bar. A zombie evening. Below the front cover of the Defenders of Guernsey short story.

Nit picking Up early and straight to work on the story. Spent much of the day combing the text for nits and clumsiness. Another month on it would haven been nice, but the planets may never align for me in the same way again. There will never be a better time to launch a short children's story than at the Guernsey Literary Festival next week. And as my new philosophy means I take every opportunity that presents itself, I must go for it. I've looked at it so much in the last days that I can no longer see the textual wood for the trees. However: an amazing stroke of luck. Catherine Pope, who republishes Victorian novels, has offered to proof Defenders of Guernsey for me after I sent out a Facebook SOS. Walked across town to one digital printers and got the ball rolling with them. Also spoke to folks in Guernsey about my technical requirements for the Children's sessions. Meanwhile Richard, who is poleaxed by an evil back, has set up a BBC Guernsey appearance for us on JKT'

No trial Calliope now in her summer cycle and woke me by delicately inserting a claw into the back of my hand at 6:30. After some catwrangling , started work at 8.00am on the Defenders of Guernsey story leaving Lorraine to snooze. Worked through till 5.00pm, pausing only to listen to various garbled news accounts of the killing of Osama Bin Laden. Surely I can't be the only person who thinks that a trial would have been nice. There must be a better demonstration of the virtues of democracy and justice than a bullet in the head and being dumped in the sea. I'm sure conspiracy theories are already multiplying like mould in a petri dish. Defenders of Guernsey hours from completion. Now seeking someone to read it. At five down to The Basketmakers to meet Lorraine, Beth, Mark and Sam. Lorraine with bargain trousers from shopping. Mark and Betty off to do work in various directions, Sam came with us to the curry house for an early meal before I returned home prompted by an email

Wrapper's delight Up at 7.00am to work on Defenders of Guernsey . Some time later Lorraine and Mum surfaced. We went down Trafalgar Street to Nia where we had a rather nice breakfast. Slightly pompously I told them afterwards how much the service and food had improved since I was last there. Then a lengthy period of wrapping and pricing Mum's framed watercolours, unframed watercolours,and her Giclée prints. This process rendered slightly more problematic by the fact that Mum is on heavy duty tranquillisers which appears to be the standard treatment for shingles. Although it is understandably making her a bit vague, it has eliminated the pain, which is great. Moments of realisation that prints that had been laboriously wrapped hadn't been signed and so on. Eventually, after splendid help from Lorraine, and a trip to Rymans from me, everything was wrapped and priced and packed into Lorraine's car and driven off to Janet and Ken's house. There Janet is presenting her