under another sun

A relaxed Sunday. Doing some recording with Robin at ten this morning. Then off at lunchtime to look at a couple of local gardens that were open, up on Firle Road. One was Palo and Martin's -- and they have a beautiful garden, and some of the rooms had been cleared to show Palo's art off in. Nice to chat to Palo and Martin especially about the garden which was also a voyage for the nose past all kinds of scented plants. We went next door, which was also an open garden, and this had magical ponds hidden under trees and lined with big mossy stones and ferns.  Home again, via a spot of shopping at Morrisons, and then did some bits in our own garden before settling down to watch England fluke a win, drawing level in injury time, and then score in extra time. We beat the mighty Slovakia. Spoke to Mum during half time. She wasn't watching it of course.  Lorraine had made a delicious chicken pie, with some veggies from our garden -- chard Lorraine picked and some potatoes I'd

Calliope woke me ridiculously early because she was bored. An amazing hot sunny day. This morning Lorraine organising a safe driving course first thing, as the cameras on the main road at the end of ours caught her speeding by 6 mph. Her street name round these parts is Lozza the Offender. We walked into town, and L the Offender went off to deliver Rhyme Time to toddlers and their carers.  I sloped to the Lanes Eatery, a cafe across the road from the graveyard (dead centre of Seaford etc.)   I think this may be my new cafe, with a scattering of people in it at that time of day and enough room to find a corner to write in. Luckily I was far enough away from the geezer blowharding to his wife about politics not to be disturbed. But as the general election is hurtling towards us, this only to be expected.  I saw a tweet today with a picture of a pint of milk with a best by date of 5th July. The poster said it is now possible to buy milk that will outlast this Tory government (the election

What a scorcher. I worked this morning on poems and sent a mad brain jazz idea to Robin, and proofed a couple of poems going out in a magazine called Cerasus -- only the second edition, and I was surprised by its excellence when I saw the draft pdf.  Had a chat with Mum too.  When Lorraine came back from her trainer,  I painted varnish on two external surfaces. Then we spent the afternoon outside, I read my book Metaphors of Memory , by Douwe Draaisma, which is as its subtitle says is A history of ideas about the mind. I have been reading this for perhaps two years now, and still haven't finished. But it is absolutely central to the stuff that preoccupies me at the moment. Also Dandelion Wine , by Ray Bradbury. I read this years ago -- but decided to revisit it, principally because it is so nostalgic and autobiographical, I want to delve more into its technique. In the introduction he writes that at an early stage of his writing, he taped the phrase don't think where he worked

I got up early and went to my desk. I am not in a flow state. When I am, I can look up and realise an hour or several has evaporated. With Lorraine away, and nothing pressing to do, I have the perfect few days for writing. My focus and enthusiasm is lacking, but I went through the motions and made a small improvement to one poem.   I missed Lorraine, who is staying in Ashford and busy helping Pat and Maureen get ready for their move.  For years I was perfectly happy in my own company, but now not having Lorraine around feels weird and unnatural. I have been brainwashed. Lorraine says she spoke to the jewellers who were aghast that the stone had fallen out of her new ring that I'd bought her as a belated birthday present, and to bring it back.  I went for a longish walk this afternoon, which helped my general antsy feeling. The beautiful weather meant there were a few more people there. A large group of south asian folks near the bottom of Edinburgh road, appeared to brought their o

Woke up at six thirty, with Joy next door dragging a wheeley-bin down by the side of the house. Got up at seven thirty, and after breakfast and various cat businesses, made off to the Seaford Station for a flying visit to the Smoke. On my travels I read a chunk more of 'A sketch of the past' a memoir by Virginia Woolf. Fascinating, and luminous in parts. I find myself making lots of notes in the margin. I have read several of her books and forget just what a brilliant writer she is. She has a way, for example, of inserting the precise name of a plant or tree, that makes a sentence work brilliantly. And at one point used the image of a Cathedral for her childhood. Eventually made it to The Jolly Badger where I met Mum. Had an enjoyable lunch and chat in there. Mum sporting her new sketchers shoes, and we had a conversation, among many others, about premium bonds, as she is an advocate. She said, with some satisfaction, that she made £150 last month.   A slow journey back home, b

Still feeling draggy, and unwell. Lorraine far from perky too. The day's excitement came when Matt the pond man came around and installed a pond filter and now the little waterfall works again. He also removed lots of water weed and left only a portion of the waterlilies. The fish seem much happier however as they have more elbow room. Unusual fish we have. But then after he left the water was washing over the side, which we discovered when he left so we had to turn it off the flow again almost as soon as he left. Our plan to build raise the level of the leaky bit with silicone and stones. Otherwise a bit of reading, dipping into Sketch of the Past , by Virginia Wolf and The Intelligence of Flowers by Maurice Maeterlinck. Proof read my latest horror story. Had a sleep. Watched football, including a diverting clash between Georgia and Turkey, and moaned a bit about not feeling right. My wife is a saint.

Monday and still feeling a bit meh, adding a touch of a cough to the general throaty tiredness. Lorraine very much on mute first thing, croaky and whispery with the sore throat.  The Tobster's birthday. I'd had a good chat with him yesterday, and wished him happy birthday then.  Mum, and she said she had spoken to him too. Both sympathetic about all the balls he is juggling. Mum told me that Ben across the road is depressed because of this wretched garage he had built several years ago. There is now an open forum on the local government website - as the building has retrospectively been contested - where one or two neighbours, like George the genius that lives next door -  are saying horrid things. We decided me going up tomorrow probably not the best idea, I will aim for later in the week because I don't want to saddle mum with my wussy throat.  Excellently, although I didn't have enough brainpower to write, but I did have enough to do my books and send them off to my

A sore throated weekend, feeling wan and deeply attracted to the gold sofa. Luckily the European Nations cup finals had started, and so I was able to simply able to watch football most of the day.  Sunday, a lovely text to start the day from Beth wishing me happy stepladders (aka stepfather's) day.   I was still wan and sore throated but simply got on with light stuff in the garden with Lorraine, potting seedlings and deadheading roses and filling a feeder pool for our fishpond to see if it is leaking and so on.  We spent an hours tidying up the house and we went to Morrisons. Then Lorraine went off to help Beth, and I had more gold sofa action with England unconvincingly winning their opening game against Serbia while tucking into roast chicken and assorted veggies I'd sorted out, in a cheesy sauce Lorraine made.  Spoke to the Tobster, whose birthday it is tomorrow. He is spinning many plates, finishing up the school year, which is in itself stressful, while having to factor i

Feeling slightly under the weather still without being sure what ails me. Uploaded the podcast today, a day late, after Robin had made some final tweaks. Generally quite happy with the episode however. A late night email from Rory Waterman, the poet I spoke to, thanking Robin and I.  A bit of other time spent making some tweaks to my latest horror story. Not quite settled on the name for it yet, probably What's inside. I just need to increase the horror quotient in it, as some of the dialogue is quite funny. Lorraine did story time, then made off to spend the afternoon with Rosie, and also pick up her birthday ring from the jewellers.  Spoke to Mum at lunchtime, then later went for a walk this afternoon. Feeling a bit tired and achey, but it was a bright fresh day, despite being very chilly compared to recent years. This evening in London a reunion of folks from my old agency, which I swerved. Although there are lots of people there I like, even if I had been full of energy, the mo

More recording today with Robin, redoing the section about Ann Perrin and ending with a lighter bit that Robin had found some research about which insects were most mentioned in haiku. Lots more editing, and I sent the whole episode off to Robin for more tweaks.  Lorraine went to Beth's house for a few hours to do some gardening.  Spoke to Mum and have rearranged my trip up to London to early next week as I am feeling a bit under the weather. However no time for indulging in being a wuss, as Lorraine and I went into Brighton tonight to meet up with Mark and Carol and Peter and Julie. We met in the mesmerist for a cheeky drink and then went to Petit Pois for some nice food. Everyone played nicely, and Lorraine enjoyed herself too. Pete and Julie were both police officers, and Lorraine feels a bit natural identification with them, having worked as a nurse and teacher. The whole idea of public service. Lorraine also liked Carol, having talked to her more. A very cheery and successful

Lorraine off to Rhymetime, then she and Beth went off to Basingstoke to spend some time with Glenice, Beth's granny. A busy desk day. I decided to feature Martyn Crucefix's translation of the Duino Elegies. His translation is very good, although the Spender Leishman version is always going to be the translation for me, as this is what I first began reading when I was 20. I recorded with Robin this morning, and then editing this afternoon. Additionally I had another Understory Conversation this afternoon for two hours -- with interesting thoughts from Emma, Marilyn, Linda and Charlotte. It's all very supportive and nice. A brief walk by the sea later. Made a vegetable chilli and ate it with Lorraine when she got back, a bit brain dead.

A long slog of an edit today. Sent off the interview for Robin to listen to. In the afternoon I took myself for a longish walk by the sea. While doing so I called Sophie as I had been dreamt about her twice in the last week, so my subconscious was prompting me to call her. She was busy as ever running her business, and it was excellent to talk to her after far too long. She sounded in pretty good spirits, and Christof and Electra are both with her at the moment. Another busy day for Lorraine off to her personal trainer,  then went to see our charming dentist, and in the evening to her book group at Delores's place.  I lay low when not editing, and rather pleased not to be socialising. I watched a documentary called Wild Combination about the US composer Arthur Russell, that Reuben said I'd like. I liked it lots. I knew his music a little, but the documentary was quite moving. He died of AIDS in 1992. The weather all over the place and cold still. Here are two snaps this afterno

Feeling a bit groggy first thing. Had a dream, the second in three days, about Sophie. I really must call her. Lorraine set off for Ashford, and I slipped on my desk manacles, and got my act together enough to interview the poet Rory Waterman, who I liked and was very chatty. I used my laptop which seemed to eliminate the problems with time lag during the recording process, I'd been dreading another difficult conversation. But all was well. Until, that was, when I came to download the recordings from the podcast from the podcast software, only to discover that my guest had not been fully recorded. Luckily I found a backup cloud recording which had the full conversation. Took me ages to sort it all out, and the cloud recording had some glitches. Editing most of the day and in the evening, but still with hours to go tomorrow.   I broke off for a walk in the afternoon, just to loosen the desk manacles. And spoke to Mum briefly. Lorraine back from Ashford after nine. To bed, and readin

Entertaining again,  Innis, Rosie, and their pals Sam and Graham came to visit. Due to the crimes of Brian, still in the doghouse, we were able to sit in our garden because it was sunny. I barbecued a whole chicken and some bangers, and Rosie and Sam had brought bits to augment the salads and dips Lorraine had made. We had assorted drinks and lots of chat. Luckily the sun was out for most of it and we ate outside on the big table for the first time this year. Pippi the dog keeping the Herring gulls at bay. I'd met Sam briefly a long time ago, and hadn't really hit it off with her. But this time I really liked her -- she is a visual artist who greatly to her credit lives well from her work - and she has a very recognisable style. I liked the way she put her hands into the fishpond and tickled the goldfish. Graham interesting too, someone who has written for theatre and TV and works carving memorial stones and doing busts of people. Always good to see Innis and Rosie, who lost h

A large scale clear up this morning. Later in the afternoon,  Adele and Patrick came around for another Shakespearian bonanza. This time it was Pericles, which proved (I'd not read it) a very odd play indeed, and not much like Shakespeare, including some odd word choices that didn't seem in his usual lexicon. But then Shakespeare does what he likes. Great fun reading it with Patrick and Adele -- sitting in the garden at first, lapping up a quick drink, and then then  broke off for a lamb biryani that Lorraine had cooked -- and Patrick played Lorraine the three songs he's lately composed, which I had listened to with Andrew the other night.  Then into the smelly living room... Thanks to bad Brian to finish off the play. Quite drained by the end of it. It's all great fun spending time with Adele and Patrick who throw themselves into the action with gusto, and an educational improvement too. I can now call myself person who has read (and listened to) all of Pericles. And i

Up and writing, before meeting a cheerful Yvonne in Grumpy's cafe for a cup of coffee and quite a bit of sparkling water.  Lorraine up and doing story time in the Library.  Yvonne shattered after looking after grandchildren, one of whom had woken six times in the night crying. Then she looked at me gleefully. 'This will be your life soon' she said. Yikes! It's bad enough with the cats.  Brian are off on hols next week... Grandkids'll be there too.  The garden this afternoon. I mowed the lawn again, and cleared out the pond and so on. A delivery curry for this evening. Nice to be at home, chilling. Read or wrote nothing improving.

An early start, writing some more. Dawn came to see Lorraine, and I went to Wimbledon to meet Simon. Listening to a bit of the Invisible Man by HG Wells as an audiobook. I have read it before, but it is to do with the stuff I've been writing lately. Counterintuitively, it is fairly easy to get to Wimbledon -- simply a train from Lewes to East Croydon, and a tram from there, which takes about 25 minutes. Met him in the same pub at two at last time, but we soon repaired to get some food, a Fatto a Mano pizza. After a bit, and a couple of beers it is like no time has passed really. In a parallel universe Simon and I have sat in the corner of a pub and talked nonsense since 1979. He's moved into a new house and seems very happy there, and is working three days a week still. Ever the dark horse, he seems content in his life. I tried to get a photo of him, that didn't look weird, but he was pulling weird faces so here's one of those. Fond farewells at Wimbledon, and I came ho

Up and writing early, breaking off to make breakfast as usual for us. Then off at noon to Newhaven where I met Reuben. Great to see him as we'd not met up for ages. Spent the next few hours wandering along the riverside to the harbour watching a herring gull attacking a crab, and lurking in the town, where we found a cafe in a little precinct and had a scone and a cup of tea each. In the precinct was some benches with four men sitting on them drinking booze out of cans. They would, I expect, have rather have been in the pub if they could have afforded it.  I am pleased we went there as I still don't know Newhaven that well. Reuben had read about an initiative to introduce colourful murals.  Newhaven is a place that could stand a bit of cheering up, there is definitely deprivation there, despite the fact it could be quite picturesque if someone threw some love and money at it. Mainly brilliant just to be chatting with Reuben, catching up with his news about his family and work a

Mumsday Monday. Up to London today, a fairly easy train ride, and a leg stretcher from Mill Hill Broadway. Lorraine across to Ashford. Mum still oppressed by a pile of paperwork on her table. Most things are dealt with. I managed to get onto Mason's computer, and sort out one or two bits, and make a phone call to stop certain letters coming. And took down some curtains, and move a rug and so on with Mum. Then we repaired to The Waggon and Horses, for a bite to eat and a drink. Steve and Paul there again, and chatting to us a bit. Otherwise empty on a Monday. Home again, and we spent some time looking at photos again, of which there are many.  I liked this one, which I had not remembered, of me and Toby, in I think Hampstead Heath. The Tobster was held back by terrible tonsils as a kid, but as soon as he had them out he started growing fast. This is probably not long before or after then. Home by half nine this evening, not long after, Lorraine came back from Ashford, having talked

Off to Brighton today, to celebrate Tanya's recent birthday. We trained to Brighton station, then climbed up Muesli Mountain, where at Catherine and Tanya's house we had our now traditional glass of fizz and a few crisps with them and Guy and Tim. We gave Tanya the gardening gloves, the same ones Anton had bought for Lorraine and I when we moved to Seaford.  We all walked down through town to Petit Pois for Sunday lunch. Apart from the vegetarian Tanya, we all ordered a roast called Three Meats, containing small amounts of lamb, pork and beef. A carnivore's delight. Cheery and interesting company. There is a Rembrandt in town, and Tanya went to see it the other day. Guy full of stories as usual. I was teasing Tim about his rebel rousing, last time we met. After lunch we made off to sit outside Brass Monkey for some ice cream. A great place for people watching as well as good ices. Some of us, Lorraine and I included, included a scoop of Pedro Ximenez ice cream which I'd

 Met Anton a little after noon, and went for a walk with him. Lorraine meanwhile went to meet the woman who owns the property liked by Maureen and Pat in Seaford.  I took Anton up the non-traditional paths over Seaford Head. He was wearing shorts and got stung quite badly but apart from cursing the gollum paths I had chosen, we had an enjoyable stroll down to Cuckmere Haven where the tide was low and lots of people were walking across the beach. So many of the people walking here appear to be from Korea and China. Apparently a famous K-pop singer did a video there, and it was also the picture used by Microsoft as an opening screen in the far east. A lovely day for walking, and great to be sauntering along with Anton in the wild again. We caught a bus opposite Friston Forest and made our way back to Seaford where we sat in the sunshine outside The Old Boot and had game of bones and drank some cold lager. Bad Anton farewell at the Station, then mooched home. In the evening Lorraine and I