The last of the summer wine

Meteorologists predict that today will be the last day of the summer weather. And for me the day fell into the nice pattern of the last week. Up and working fairly quickly and fluently on the book.  Then a trip to the gym for an hour or so. Forgot a teeshirt to change into after showering so had to buy one, shopping aromatically in my sweaty one. Then to Starbucks in a new teeshirt for a large cup of tea and  that all-important change of scene as I worked. Sat next to a young European-looking couple who were chatting in a strange language. Invariably I have a rough idea, but this was like nothing I'd heard. Perhaps they were time travellers from the future.

More email with my new and interesting friend Chiara, who is a Guernsey born cellist, singer and composer. I am sending her a copy of Clameur and A Guernsey Double. From what she tells me about her musical tastes it will be fascinating to hear how she sets A Return.

In the evening, after I cooked a rather tasty chickpea curry, L and I went for a walk around the park in the fading light for the second night this week. Lots of people still there late. Something magical about the park in the evening, with the lights of the houses on the hills above the line of the trees. It's good for Lorraine and I as we talk more when we are walking than we might slumped on the sofa. It's what Toby and Romy do, and is therefore a good thing.

Today was my perfect 'standard' workday. Lots of focused quiet work plus exercise, vegetarian food, and good chats with my Lorraine. Some days feeling happy is simple.

Reading a couple of Seamus Heaney poems before bed tonight. He died a few days ago and at his best he was a gorgeous poet. Look at this imagery from one of his better-known poems The Railway Children.

When we climbed the slopes of the cutting
We were eye-level with the white cups
Of the telegraph poles and the sizzling wires. 
Like lovely freehand they curved for miles
East and miles west beyond us, sagging
Under their burden of swallows.