A commotion in Charleston Bottom

Up early and Brian called round for me at 8:15 this morning, and we drove off to Friston Forest for an hour's walk. Brian, hardy soul, had already been for swim before he collected me. A lovely walk through the trees, with Marley the dog racing ahead and back again, and pleading with Brian to throw sticks for her.  Always a profoundly interesting conversation with Brian. We tree bathed in the beech forest, and talked about kindness, and responsibilities. Brian said I was a calm person, which I liked as I think of myself as a bit of a hysteric.

We looked down at valley Brian told me was called Charleston Bottom. Beautiful sight, and suddenly dozens of birds in the sky over one of the far fields -- herring gulls and starlings and crows, and amid them a bird of prey, too far away for me to identify it, but obviously causing the commotion.

Home and worked more on the seven new poems. Then joined in the frenzy of housework day. Members of Lorraine's book group were coming around. I did quite a bit of yard work too, and mowed the lawn. Just before they were due to arrive I slipped out and armed with a couple of poetry books, and a print out of the seven poems, found myself in The Cinque Ports sipping a cold beer and brooding on poems. A couple however were having an odd and prickly conversation nearby, so I took myself to The Old Boot and read some poems by Naush Sabah that Robin had sent me. Interesting stuff.

Home and it turns out the a plague had descended on the book group, and there was only Lorraine and Kate -- whose party we were at recently -- and Carol chatting. I joined them and tucked into a glass of wine and hung out in the garden. Carol saw a shooting star.  

Below, looking from the edge of the forest into Charleston Bottom.