Returned giraffes and workshops
Perhaps due to the heat but finding it very hard to focus today. Kept thinking about all the things I should be doing, rather than simply doing any of them. Just as I was about to leave for the gym, I received a phone call from young Elijah, the son of Max and the French Bloke, who was delighted to receive his long lost giraffe which was found behind a wardrobe. Lorraine and I enclosed an account from Skidaddle of what he had been up to in Brighton in the interim, which Elijah read back to me with some incredulity. Very sweet. Also spoke to Max afterwards too.
To the gym but little gas in the tank, returned via Sainsburys and faffed about generally. Lorriane home early though. After work, and the consumption of fish and salad, I went up to Anton's house where I helped Anton lift his new high powered enormous TV onto a stand we had to construct. The TV came with 3D glasses and everything. Rather amazing. I left Anton toying happily with this new gadget.
Then to The Caxton where I went to the poetry workshop meeting in a dingy damp room that managed to be cold despite the heat. Had a far better experience this time, there were six writers there and they were all good and had thoughtful things to say. I put in a poem I wasn't sure about and definitely had this improved, which was worth the visit alone. Chatted afterwards to Antony, an intelligent considerate man who I liked a good deal, and Alan who was very knowledgeable about music and had travelled down from London to be there. A nice evening, then I drifted back home from here to my Lorraine, who I discovered sipping an end-of-termish red wine.
To the gym but little gas in the tank, returned via Sainsburys and faffed about generally. Lorriane home early though. After work, and the consumption of fish and salad, I went up to Anton's house where I helped Anton lift his new high powered enormous TV onto a stand we had to construct. The TV came with 3D glasses and everything. Rather amazing. I left Anton toying happily with this new gadget.
Then to The Caxton where I went to the poetry workshop meeting in a dingy damp room that managed to be cold despite the heat. Had a far better experience this time, there were six writers there and they were all good and had thoughtful things to say. I put in a poem I wasn't sure about and definitely had this improved, which was worth the visit alone. Chatted afterwards to Antony, an intelligent considerate man who I liked a good deal, and Alan who was very knowledgeable about music and had travelled down from London to be there. A nice evening, then I drifted back home from here to my Lorraine, who I discovered sipping an end-of-termish red wine.
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