Can you feel the force?

Up early, as Lorraine left with Beth at seven. I got up shortly after. Wrote for an hour or so, then faffed about preparing for talking to Peter Daniels at 11. Nice to meet him again for the first time in decades. He was associated with the Oscars, who were a pioneering gay writers group in London in the late 80s and 90s - and who knew and published my friend Tim Gallagher. 

At noon Lorraine was back, Beth's pregnancy blood sugar tests all good. Lorraine off this afternoon to her personal trainer. I went for an over two hour walk around the north part of town, and walking at the edge of flinty-looking fields ending up in Seaford Cemetery. I love cemetery for some reason. There commonwealth graves there too -- West Indian soldiers who died in World War One, and graves with daffodils bursting out of them, and children's graves planted in circles. As I did so, I managed to listen to the whole of the short novel by Alan Garner called Treacle Walker. Garner's story is rich in language and magic.

Nice to be home with Lorraine supping tea. Perhaps this is entirely subjective, but I sense a change in The Force; that the Trumpian tide of chaos might not end in disaster. Elbows up! is the Canadian phrase originating with an ice hockey player, means to go out on the ice ready for a fight. A man I heard on R4 was suggesting it might become the equivalent of the Solidarity campaign in Poland.