under another sun

Up and writing this morning. Breaking off for a pancake breakfast cooked by Beth. She made some with slightly crazed blueberry smiles. Lorraine, John and I scarfing them, and plain ones with bacon and maple syrup, which was all rather delicious. After breakfast noticed a large fox, possibly a pregnant female relaxing in our garden. It seemed to appreciate the newly dug earth, and employed it as a lavatory. Managed also to work on a poem, which if I say so myself, is one of the best I have written. So quite chuffed with that. Also spoke to Mum. Lorraine and Beth off shopping, but I met up with them and John, his mum Krys and sister Jo who were down in Brighton today in Côte for a lunchtime bite, which was cheery. I went back home, and Beth and Lorraine arrived later, armed with a new coat for Beth. From Côte to coat. Below a Blueberry smile, the fox in question, and light through the side gate of the Pavilion Gardens.

Full moon and foxes Woken up at an early hour by a crashing about and strange yelps in my front patch of garden. Calliope looking alarmed on the end of my bed. Leapt up as someone had recently kicked at some trellising. Imagine my surprise when I saw two urban* foxes on my doorstep. I lent out of my window clapping, and one made off through the, now clearly fox-made, hole in the trellising. I think the filthy beasts had the effrontery to be breeding too. On my doorstep. Needled three times this morning in an attempt to get blood. Nurse apologetic but kept on jabbin'. Luckily despite being a hysteric and a hypochondriac I seem to be okay about having blood taken. Then home working on my new poems for a bit before shooting off up to the smoke on a double mission. First off to the South Bank to drop of a brace of Guernsey Doubles into the National Poetry Library, and spend a couple of hours reading through the latest poetry magazines. Curiously heartened by the idea-free, emotionless...