My Friday

My weekday off! Friday has now become 'My Friday' in my mind. Walked off early to Stained Glass this morning, passing two men in top hats. Enjoyed stained glass, but slightly rueful that my design is so complex. Now getting to the bits where I am overlaying glass on glass, which requires sections of wide heart lead.I am liking everyone involved in the workshop these days. There is only one woman, Yvonne, who I am warming to lots now having found her difficult at first. She is very creative, always making pottery, teaching children various stuff in schools, and doing design work. She is very chatty and told me she was bipolar, but her medications keep it completely under control, and creativity is her great release. If she can creative she stays well. A feeling easy for me to understand.

Pretty washed out today, after having drinks last night, and my throat back to being spiteful. A quick coffee with my interesting fellow student, Chris. Noticed on the bus home lots of gulls sitting on top of bus shelters in town for some reason. 

Home and I showered, taking sensible precautions against lead then to work. I have a new batch of poems suddenly mushrooming up, a sort of more optimistic compliment to the poems in Sin Cycle with a working title of Nine Salvations although this sounds too religious. However I was quickly overwhelmed by tiredness this afternoon, and sat on the gold sofa and watched Brooklyn 99 and re-read my old copy of Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius, complete with my marginalia that dated back to my final year as an undergraduate. Saw online that there is a more recent translation, but I looked at it on Amazon, where it gives you a glimpse of the book's innards, and the translation was dreadful. The Consolation is part poetry and part prose, and the poems have suffered over the years at the hands of tin eared translators.

Lorraine came home in her old car, which we parked on the edge of town, then walked back home chatting then had a cheeky scrambled eggs on toast before going back to the village hall near where she works for a pub quiz night run by the friends of Bolney, except not in a pub. Benches of contestants and mostly annoying questions on trivia. We didn't didn't come close to winning this year, and the winners contained a finalist for this year's Mastermind. Lorraine and I both tired, and escaped as soon as it was humanly decent. Home, and quickly to bed.