A glass of water
Working obsessively on new poems for many hours on a particular submission I have in mind. Boosted too by some kind words about The Nightwork from Richard. Tremendously hot day here in sunny Brighton, and I was pleased to finally escape the study if only for another doctor's appointment this afternoon, which coincided with feeling better today than I have done for some weeks. He weighed me and adjusted his records to show me a over a stone lighter. Then I called in on Anton a refreshing glass of water in his back garden. Nice to shoot the breeze for a bit. He is relieved to have been released from jury duty. Aparently Oskar feels hard done-to because Klaudia had an afternoon with me, so I will have to sort something out with him. Amazing really that my Godchildren actually want to spend time with me. I'm very lucky.
We also toyed with Oskar's One Ring on a chain, just like Frodo Baggins's, except that Oskar's had been through the washing machine a few times. Anton had it in an envelope on Oksar's mantlepiece the night he read the part of the Lord of the Rings where Gandalf asks Frodo to open an envelope on his mantlepiece with the ring on it. Something the boy might remember all his life.
Ridiculous phone call from my credit card people to reinstate my credit card. The La Barbarie transaction (one I make at least twice a year and had been mysteriously declined the night before) had triggered a block. No satisfactory explanation from them other than it was for my own protection, which of course is a flat out lie, felt in touch with my inner Victor Meldrew.
Posted a piece about Chiara and The Return to Sarnia. Looking forward to L and I popping over to Guernsey for a couple of days in August to attend this, chill at LaBarbarie and see The Italianate Flemings.
Lorraine and I disturbed by the most intense thunderstorm I can remember in the UK at around 1:30. Ran around naked and Noah-like unplugging my computer equipment, as rain battered the roof and sheet lightning lit up the Velux windows.
We also toyed with Oskar's One Ring on a chain, just like Frodo Baggins's, except that Oskar's had been through the washing machine a few times. Anton had it in an envelope on Oksar's mantlepiece the night he read the part of the Lord of the Rings where Gandalf asks Frodo to open an envelope on his mantlepiece with the ring on it. Something the boy might remember all his life.
Ridiculous phone call from my credit card people to reinstate my credit card. The La Barbarie transaction (one I make at least twice a year and had been mysteriously declined the night before) had triggered a block. No satisfactory explanation from them other than it was for my own protection, which of course is a flat out lie, felt in touch with my inner Victor Meldrew.
Posted a piece about Chiara and The Return to Sarnia. Looking forward to L and I popping over to Guernsey for a couple of days in August to attend this, chill at LaBarbarie and see The Italianate Flemings.
Lorraine and I disturbed by the most intense thunderstorm I can remember in the UK at around 1:30. Ran around naked and Noah-like unplugging my computer equipment, as rain battered the roof and sheet lightning lit up the Velux windows.
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