Loving the blots

Up at seven thirty, and sent a few emails, and then pulled back the sequence of seven poems -- going back to the version before last which had a lot more life.  I caught a snatch of Antiques Roadshow on TV last night, and they briefly featured an interview with Ralph Steadman the cartoonist, talking about how he draws in ink without pencilling, and his how his ink blots and splashes adds life to his pictures. Reflecting on this this morning, it confirmed my fears that I'd over tidied. As soon as I reincorporated some of the quirks from the earlier drafts and the poems sprang back to life again. Why is it I have to keep learning the same lessons again and again. 

Wrote for a few hours, before brunch. Lorraine and Maureen off shopping at Marks and Sparks and meeting Betty briefly for lunch. I sat with Pat and rewatched most of Guardians of the Galaxy, which is enormous fun. Then we started watching the second Avatar film, which was dumb as nuts.

To the gym, when Maureen and Lorraine home. My cross training trundling was done to bouts of noisy drilling, as they are reorganising the space.  Home and feeling a bit wan and sniffly. Lorraine now coughing and spluttering, and Maureen shattered from her cold again. Pat still unwell and coughing every night. I phoned Mum and suggested that maybe I shouldn't be bringing these germs up to her and Mas tomorrow and she agreed. Boo. 

A Steadman inkblot dog.