Jabbed

A bit of writing first thing -- having woken up with an idea about a poem that has been on the back burner for ages. Improved it, but not there yet. My brain a bit sluggish, and not really in a very creative space. 

Lorraine drove us off to nearby Newhaven. Our way blocked by the shipping bridge going up at 10:30 and then the railway barriers going down. We parked up and went to the little old streets in the little town centre. Those shops and streets are in want of love. We found the Boots chemist where we had our flu jabs, and chatted to an older lady who hobbled over and had chat about the strangeness of modern life, much stranger than wartime with the bombs and everything (she said she was born in 1936). She said she had broken her leg recently and ended up being put in the maternity ward. She made remarks about the dim view she had of young mothers these days.

Reading Robert Hamberger's book A Length of Road. Excellent. 

Lorraine and I, jabbed and fine, back to the car, via Newhaven tip, and then back to Seaford where we spoke to a man about replacing Lorraine's car door.

I spent the afternoon feeling a bit tired -- a small reaction to the jab I think -- and had a snooze. Then I did a bit more work but sitting with Lorraine, including -- in a wild and mad rush -- approaching an agent in the US.

Strange night for Lorraine and I when we got to watching some TV at the end of the day. No football. No Deep Space Nine. Instead Lorraine binged on Masterchef.