Flowing to deletion
Last day in London. Infuriating start to the day. A poem I have been slightly toying with suddenly clicked into place. The train and the journey disappeared as I typed my laptop in a rapturous flow state for one hour and ten minutes. Read it through and was delighted, convinced it was the best thing I have written in ages. I went to save it into my dropbox and by a bizarre and couldn't-do-it-again-if-you-tried kind of manoeuvre managed to delete the bastard thing irrevocably. I felt like crying. The morning's work was fairly sparse, so I managed to reassemble something like the final version once I had calmed down. It isn't the same though. Lunch with Slug and Karam, then a busier afternoon before being released back into the wild. Karam and Slug keen for an after work drink, however, and so I was happy to accompany them to the pub. Their respective other halves joined us there, and we had a jolly time. Eventually, the call of the seagull grew strong in me, and after