Moment of confusion
Up early finishing off a some copy on atrial fibrillation, having first jotted down a new poem which suddenly popped out from what my new and abundant seam.
Was just making myself a self-satisfied cup of tea when Cath called round. Had an deep chat about Cath having just returned from a huge pilgrimage across Spain and landing with an inevitable bump. She is now looking for a job having taken voluntary redundancy from her last one, but wants to make some big shape ups too.
Off to the bank this afternoon, to pay in expenses from Guernsey, which lessened the sting of recent adventures. Walking to the gym I had a very disconcerted moment. I glimpsed Lorraine's doppelganger, bumped into my neighbour Ronnie, received a text about atrial fibrillation, and a clearly-deranged young guy, having walked unhindered, began shouting at Ronnie and I to 'get out of my town' and 'don't block the pavement'.
I had to cut short the gym to do some more work. And then a quiet evening with tired eyes, feeling listless and braindead watching a documentary about soldiers in Afghanistan, and reading Akhmatova. Haunting and deft work, she is fast becoming a literary pin-up. It's not often you fall for a poet's work so thoroughly.
Below Akhmatova by Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin (which is also on the cover of Richard McKane's translation).
Up early finishing off a some copy on atrial fibrillation, having first jotted down a new poem which suddenly popped out from what my new and abundant seam.
Was just making myself a self-satisfied cup of tea when Cath called round. Had an deep chat about Cath having just returned from a huge pilgrimage across Spain and landing with an inevitable bump. She is now looking for a job having taken voluntary redundancy from her last one, but wants to make some big shape ups too.
Off to the bank this afternoon, to pay in expenses from Guernsey, which lessened the sting of recent adventures. Walking to the gym I had a very disconcerted moment. I glimpsed Lorraine's doppelganger, bumped into my neighbour Ronnie, received a text about atrial fibrillation, and a clearly-deranged young guy, having walked unhindered, began shouting at Ronnie and I to 'get out of my town' and 'don't block the pavement'.
I had to cut short the gym to do some more work. And then a quiet evening with tired eyes, feeling listless and braindead watching a documentary about soldiers in Afghanistan, and reading Akhmatova. Haunting and deft work, she is fast becoming a literary pin-up. It's not often you fall for a poet's work so thoroughly.
Below Akhmatova by Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin (which is also on the cover of Richard McKane's translation).
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