An industrious Tuesday
Lorraine back into her usual routine of getting up at 6:30. My betrothed brings me a cup of tea, though, which makes it marvellous. A good day's writing, a quick go at reworking the lost poem that I deleted on the train at St Pancras last month, then writing about the notion of Adland, and on marketing charities. Feeling that progress is being made and that left to my own devices I might actually finish this thing.
Broke off to go to LA Fitness, my gym for an hour or so, chatting to Mum and Mas as I walked there. At the gym, they have unbelievably still not fixed the air conditioning problem. I am having a problem too. I am losing weight everywhere, but my stomach is lagging behind or should that be lagging in front, of the rest. I have to be more fanatical, and shun beers and smiling and do more sit-ups.
A spot of shopping noticing the sea mist thick down by the sea, before returning home to sunlight and to reapply the desk manacles. Lorraine came home this afternoon and we went shopping together and bumped into Anton's pal Rick. We later tormented ourselves with watching the Great British Bake Off with its delicious cakes and trifles and so on, as we ate our steamed vegetables, fish and rice.
Really nice surprise this evening when I was emailed by a young composer called Chiara who was born on Guernsey who wants to set my poem A Return to music. All rather cheering.
And so to bed.
Broke off to go to LA Fitness, my gym for an hour or so, chatting to Mum and Mas as I walked there. At the gym, they have unbelievably still not fixed the air conditioning problem. I am having a problem too. I am losing weight everywhere, but my stomach is lagging behind or should that be lagging in front, of the rest. I have to be more fanatical, and shun beers and smiling and do more sit-ups.
A spot of shopping noticing the sea mist thick down by the sea, before returning home to sunlight and to reapply the desk manacles. Lorraine came home this afternoon and we went shopping together and bumped into Anton's pal Rick. We later tormented ourselves with watching the Great British Bake Off with its delicious cakes and trifles and so on, as we ate our steamed vegetables, fish and rice.
Really nice surprise this evening when I was emailed by a young composer called Chiara who was born on Guernsey who wants to set my poem A Return to music. All rather cheering.
And so to bed.
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