Sunday afternoon

Drought having been declared in several counties of England a couple of days ago, naturally it has been raining ever since.

Worked on my poems at 7, then simply went back to bed not getting up till after 11. Looked into my loft and bought a new room thermostat online. Actually Lorraine did this for me, as I was too enervated by the whole process. Considered this enough for a Sunday and decided to go for a walk. After a few minutes in soaking rain, but Lorraine said 'shall we just go to the pub instead' and so we repaired to The Eagle, where we ate roast pork, mountains of veggies, and supped pints of fine bitter chatting through the afternoon, looking at a tropical marine aquarium, and the rain falling on the street outside. Lorraine is a person who will happily talk about poetry even though she doesn't write it. Amazing really. I have read her nine of the new poems I've written as works in progress, and she is still talking to me.

Home again in the soaking rain, and we watched Edward Scissorhands on TV. Tim Burton is the man who should turn Skelton Yawngrave into a movie. Lorraine sloped off into the wet night, and the weekend drew to a close.

Below in the rain skipped by an image of Aung San Suu Kyi painted in a a walled in window frame in Vine Street Brighton by Mike Edwards. The portrait was made solely out of text from Aung San Suu Kyi's speech 'Freedom From Fear'. Aung San Suu Kyi was Director of the Brighton Festival this year, although what this meant in practise I am unclear.

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