A balanced day

Monday, and a cheeriness about not having to do any thinking about concepts. I got up early and did a smidge of writing, reading throughout the day, and then met Robin for a chat and to do some recording. Robin has some lurgy, but has to sing in a concert at the weekend. Vocally we both sound a bit ropey.  

A burst of garden work. Another bout of wrestling with the vengeful buddleia bush with its root system like the nazi underground hospital in Guernsey. The buddleia is still winning. I went for a walk in the afternoon, just picking a direction from home and walking in a straight line up the alley nearby onto Carlton Road a road and then more alleys then across a field. There was a road the other side of the field, called Grand Avenue and continuing the straight line I had been walking led to St Andrew's Church at Bishopstone. I must have been walking what remained of an old drove path. Then I walked down to the sea walked back home, adding a circuit of The Salts, a recreation ground between our street and the sea. Good to be beginning to explore the local walks. 

Lorraine back from training in Bolney, where she was worked  very hard and afterwards bumped into her friend Sue there, and then shopping in the garden centre where she bought bags of British manure, with pictures of noble British horses on the packaging. Glad she avoided any foreign muck.

I popped into Morrisons tonight, to buy a few bits. Tomatoes on my list. The fruit and veg was sparse. They are blaming weather in Spain and Morocco. But social media was alive with photos of supermarkets in Spain and France groaning with tomatoes and so on. It's Brexit of course. 

Spoke to the Tobster this evening. Winter and work both seeming like long hauls.

Below the edge of town looking towards Newhaven, and down to Bishopstone across the field -- empty shelves in the supermarket.