Tides in my affairs

I decided I'm in a fallow period, like a field left alone to rejuvenate, naturally recover and settle. Despite low energy and mental sluggishness, some inching progress: I learned a little more about Substack, investigated where I might send Gordon Road now that Live Cannon, due to announce the winners six weeks ago, have maintained radio silence and not replied to my email. I'm hoping there's not some horrible calamity behind the scenes, as this is not how they operate. There are more important things in this world than poetry pamphlets. 

Spoke to Mum, who was just about to dye her hair and was in decent spirits.  Enzo and Beth around today. Enzo slightly coldy, but still radiating sunshine. Beth doing a bit of preliminary work before restarting her job next month. Enzo hiccuping today, which I have never heard. 

Ate lunch and could have slept, instead I mooching about the lost village of Tide Mills. With my CBT head on, I decided to examine what happens to me when I feel agoraphobic. This feeling has long roots, back to when I was about four years old, and used to walk to St Martin's Parish school in Guernsey holding onto the hedges in case I would fall into the sky.  

I love walking about in the ruins of Tide Mills but I avoid the straightforward walk back along the seafront as it is very flat and exposed. Today, feeling quite anxious once or twice, I managed to do this walk, tried also to work out what I was thinking and feeling, and what my bodily sensations were and so on. There are certainly tides in the affairs of men, but this is all very introspective stuff.

Home and after Beth and Enzo left, I read more of Farewell, My Lovely. Almost finished this one. It's a particular style, but his writing is so good in parts you feel convinced of his depictions of  California in the late 30s.

Lorraine and I enjoyed a quiet evening. Her voice is still very throaty, so I cooked a fierce vegetable chilli to test her metal. Early to bed.

Below some shots around tide mills in tasteful Silvertone.