Quiet reflection

Working on a piece of flash fiction (i.e. a very short story with a hipper name) and one of the characters is a transexual. Blearily woke up this morning, gratefully sipping the tea Lorraine had brought me, and thumbing the Guardian app on my iPhone to read an extraordinarily offensive rant by inflammatory hack Julie Birchill about transexual people. The comments section had exploded, and people were saying how they had reported her insults to the police. During the day her article was taken offline, and replaced by an apology from the editor. She certainly has a talent for getting a reaction, and from a selfish point of view, the furore gave me some insights at exactly the right moment.

Brighton avoiding snow, but enjoying rain as usual. A day of quiet reflection for me (something that Julie Burchill could have done with) troubled only by the demands of cats. Lorraine out this evening, and I worked on my very short story, and mooched about cheerfully but with variable degrees of purpose. Heard from the lovely Sophie, who is delighted that Christof had a place in Oxford. She also said she was seeing a contact at the BBC and wuld mention This Concert Will Fall In Love With You, which is kind of her.

Julia sent me another Dante Gabriel Rossetti poem to look at. I don't rate Rossetti much as a poet, but the process is interesting.

Lorraine home late after Hullabalooing. I am pleased she is singing again.