Cats and cobblers

Working on the book. I'm impatient to finish it, but for some reason it has set its own slow but steady pace. Something in me dies when I have to be methodical. Sloped off to the gym for a brief go on the cross trainer, not much gas in the tank, but it was better than nothing. A sudden nervousness about going into hospital next week, but this passed.

Afternoon spent washing my gold sofa covers and clothes, plus more writing. Saw an idea on the internet the other day which has proved an absolute boon. Put a box on your desk if you have a cat. Calliope is constantly interfering with me when I work, and trying to sit on my lap, keyboard etc. Now she just sits in the box.

One of  Lorraine's starving days so I readied my kid gloves for she gets tetchy when she is hungry. We ate salad and brown rice and some river cobbler. River cobbler is a kind of Vietnamese catfish suddenly going cheap in Sainsburys. It was smoked and tasted fairly nondescript although Lorraine had been reading dubious things about it on the internet at the weekend, which put us off a bit. 

Below dipping into a book of essays Matt lent me by Morton Feldman, an American composer and my latest music craze. Morton Feldman looked like this, and writes prose just like his face. Also a river cobbler.

Morton Feldman

River cobbler