under another sun

I now have Lorraine's evil cold too. Just as Lorraine had been doing earlier in the week, I spent lots of the day in bed, alongside intermittent bouts of sneezing, coughing, streaming and so on before making it to the gold sofa for the evening. Decided to book a covid test, although Lorraine did proper one and two lateral flows all of which were negative. Luckily Lorraine is improved enough to deal with the carpet layer who arrived today who replaced the carpet on the stairs. She also took care of me bringing me teas and food upstairs, despite not being fully recovered herself, bless her. I spoke to carpet fitter from my bed.  Also Beth and James were going to come around tonight, but decided against it as they did not want to get the terrible cold. Instead Beth picked up her presents at the door with her and James wearing masks.  I also had to text Catherine to postpone our lunch. I think it is unlikely I can attend Beth's Sunday lunch party. Hopefully Lorraine will however. ...

My new MacBook Air arrived today. Spent much of the day setting it up, quite a bit of it sitting with Lorraine in bed.  They are things of beauty. Chats with Catherine this morning, who told me she has been offered a programming job. We are planning to celebrate her resilience and generally inspirational quality in the Bath Arms tomorrow.  Today, a bit of writing and thinking, and looking after Lorraine, who is slowly improving after days of feeling horrid. Spoke to Mum too. Off this afternoon for a brisk walk, around and about, after buying Beth a card and some wrapping paper for her birthday this weekend. Love walking through the autumnal scenes nearby. In the evening, however, I began to stream and sneeze and generally exhibit all the signs of Lorraine's cold. Gah.

Lorraine working at home this morning, although of course everyone else being told to run for the bunkers does not apply to teachers so back to work as normal come 11:30. So the first day of what they are calling the second lockdown (a watery seeming lockdown to me) was a writerly day for me. I thanked David the editor of Supernatural Tales for the acceptance of   The Grieving  and resent a version with fewer typos. Also finished another edit of my latest story, called Doctor Spotlight . In the afternoon uploaded the second Planet Poetry episode, and did a bit of social media trumpeting. The bit I like most is seeing it slide into the podcast on my iPhone just like the ones I listen to.  My walk transformed by the fact that the golf course now has no golfers again, so all the glorious space up there is free to saunter around in and absent of eighteen hole troublers -- and there were lots of people doing so. Gorgeous. Made the mistake of walking near two schools at chuck ...

Woke up feeling stressed this morning, and my face was twitching. Perhaps this was due to Calliope again waking me at 3:30 and when I chucked her off the bed, vomited in protest a bit later. I felt like shaking her like a ginger stepchild. Meanwhile Lorraine had little voice, and was clearly going down with the evil cold Beth has had. She made off to work though. However, I found out first thing that mes amis in Paris where happy with the work I sent last night, so suddenly a day of capering about instead of slogging at my desk. A few bits to finish off this morning, and FaceTimed Mum before I scampered off into town to have a haircut. Nice chat in there, some of it around the notion of being Santa. Then to the Bath Arms to meet Catherine Pope, who as usual I found inspiring and today a great listener as I was, I am afraid to say, on broadcast mode, given to sharing my various opinions particularly about subjects in which my knowledge is sketchy. She forgave me though, and I came a...

Donned the hair shirt, and embarked on a big mind map to assess where I am with my writing, and work out a few next steps. This involved casting a cold eye on all my activities. And it wasn't a pretty sight. The children's novel has been completely ignored or rejected by over a dozen agents, so it may be unpublishable dross or my approach is all wrong. I need to find out. I have a single poem in the publishing pipeline (and today received confirmation that my collection had got nowhere in the poetry business competition) no plays, no music (the Centaur project seems to be at a halt), no stories accepted, no big ideas, and now no freelance. To the gym, which helped a good deal. And walking through the park and literally smelling the roses. And an invitation from Antony to go to his book launch later in the month Bestiary, and Other Animals , which should be fun, and a note from Catherine to meet up soon. Heard that Jade had not got the Oxford job she'd interviewed for. ...

The day seemed to zoom past today. Got up fairly early, Lorraine having brought me a cup of tea in bed, and I wrote some bits, reworked some copy as a favour for Catherine, looked at the cover proposal for the Telltale anthology and made suggestions, was contacted by Fernanda and did a smidge extra on the work we were doing yesterday. I had plans of perhaps going into London on the weekly pass I bought, but ran out of time. Instead I went on a two hour walk down to the sea and around and about, wearing my flat cap because it was cold. Forgot to take any snaps, but it was good thinking time and I easily passed my ten thousand paces. Nice to be sucking in the sea air after being working in corporate goldfish bowl offices for three days. Holding onto my hat on the pier, which is undergoing some maintenance, and men were welding things in the strutty bits underneath over the water. Home, and cooked for the lovely Mrs Kenny, added food and judiciously added a glass of beer when she got ...

So up with Lorraine this morning, and waved her off not to see her for the rest of the week. She is going to the Isle of Wight today with a couple of dozen children in a coach and a boat. So left to my own devices this week. Certain photos taken of me last week at the poetry reading I went to, cropped up on Facebook. In these photos I look a bit like Friar Tuck. I began a two-pronged attack on this, going to the barbers late this morning to make sure the ratio of gleaming pate to hair was a bit less medieval. Then to the gym for the first time in ages, for a mild mannered half an hour on the cross trainer.  From there to the non-ideologically sound Starbucks, where I worked for a bit on my laptop, before sauntering off to The Marwood where I had arranged to meet Catherine and Alex, as I thought they should meet as they have much in common. Nice to drink even coffee and chat with them for a couple of hours about all kinds of things. Then home, where I did a bit more work. I am ...

Up early and working for a while, before sloping off into town, where I bought shoe laces, dust masks for scraping walls, and went to the bank. After this I had a quick coffee in the Marwood cafe. It was regrettably full of posturing arty types doing some kind of quick and grubby photoshoot, as if it were the most important thing in the world. Bah, I thought, Old fogeyishly. Then off to meet Catherine at The Bath Arms for lunch. A pint of beer, some grub and a long chat. Catherine is so intelligent and sane, I always feel braced and perked up by her company, and that I can say almost anything to her. I also spoke to Rosie about our forthcoming birthdays, which as they are only a day apart we are going to have a mutual drink in a pub with our many mutual chums on Saturday night. Still no real energy. I start off the day full of hope and cheer, but by mid afternoon feel tied, and achey, which makes me feel glum. It feels like there are million things to do, but I just have no oomph. ...

A curiously excellent day. I hadn’t been looking forward to it at all, as my first job was to walk down to the doctor’s office and be wired up to my 24-hour blood pressure test. I have appalling white coat syndrome when it comes to having my blood pressure taken, so I always get an alarmingly high reading. Having half hourly blood pressure checks is not a perfect recipe for a happy day. Much to my own surprise I did not get hysterical all once. Every time the automatic sleeve inflated, I just said to myself, imagine how pleased you’ll feel when this comes back as normal tomorrow.   On the way to the surgery and on the way back I was beset by several good creative ideas about how I can make the most of projects I have been working on. Once home I simply spent the day executing one of them, a short story assembled from previous material, that I think works far better than I had hoped. I also had the idea of how I would start the sequel to The Second Kind of Darkness (now in an...

Doing lots of mind-maps at the moment, trying to use this natural lull to at least be clear about my objectives. At lunchtime, I zoomed down to the Bath Arms to answer the papal summons. There are few people better to chat with over a plate of pub grub and a pint than Catherine, and we had a great chat over lunch. Then up to St Luke's with Lorraine in a taxi, where Glen and Eleni, and Kostas on guitar were playing a concert of Greek and French music. Bumped into a few folks I'd not seen in a while, including the composer Barry Mills, and Adam Bushell, who, like Glen, played on This Concert Will Fall In Love With You and other adventures, Richard Gibson there too. Glen and Eleni played with Kostas Kationis on guitar, who Eleni told me is extremely respected around Kavala as a choral conductor and arranger. In a selection of Greek songs from the 20th century, in the first half, then a selection of French songs, including of songs by Edith Piaf with lovely fluency too. Afte...

Good work on the novel this morning, then I mooched down to meet Catherine for papal audience in The Bath Arms, ate fish and chips and talked at Catherine till her ears wilted. Catherine with a day off from the University, really good to see her, although work has been hard, she's been off colour with a virus, and she was sad as one of her and Tanya's beloved cats died on Monday. Pet deaths are tough. One of unappealing characteristics is moaning. Once I have moaned wretchedly for a while, I feel cleansed, happy and optimistic. Weirdly the hearers of this moaning don't always feel the same way. Luckily Catherine is made of robust stuff, and endures a bit of moaning in good spirit. She is a most excellent person to talk to, funny and entertaining and inspiring. Perhaps my subconscious takes her Pope surname to heart, and I come away feeling absolved. Walked home afterwards in a good deal of rain, and felt suddenly very flat and tired. Spoke to Mum, in a flat and tired wa...

A pleasant day, not having to write about homelessness nor anything else. Mainly allowed me to sit about and  cough and snuffle to my heart's content. Bussed to the Bath Arms have a bite to eat with Catherine, and we had a good chat on a wide variety of things, everything from The Epic of Gilgamesh to Donald Trump, and a bit of gossip thrown in. Catherine mentioned as an aside that her PhD thesis on Florence Marryat, that she has restructured as a book is now going to be published at the end of next year. I came home and flaked out a bit, and then when Lorraine was done with work and Beth was back from Eastbourne we went off to the Preston Park Tavern, which felt like a celebration of Lorraine being on the weekend. I wasn't drinking much, however.  Beth and Lorraine menacing each other's bottoms in the dark on the way home, despite it being no later than eight. 

Working on various poems this morning, and writing something on the Telltale site. Then off to answer a Papal summons in The Bath Arms, for lunch (sausage and mash for me, and a bleeding steak for Catherine) and wide-ranging discussions with Catherine, including the recent uncovering of a Dickens rejection letter to Mrs Florence Marryat. A writer Catherine knows an enormous amount about. See Catherine's blog on the subject here.  Also received advice about going backwards on the cross trainer. Catherine amusingly went to extremes on the gym last year and doing an astonishing seven day a week routine, which even her personal trainer told her was too much. The wiry fit Pope clad in black lycra was what led to Tanya dubbing her Spiderpope, which still makes me laugh every time I think of it. From here back home, where I had a judicious snooze and started work on a new poem. This in response to a request to write a response to Willie the Shake's Sonnet 19, for an anthology. I hav...

Working very early to finish another bit of Chad work off. Still in all work and no play mode. Luckily managed to get done by noon. Was able to zoom into town to The Bath Arms to have a papal audience with Catherine Pope. A welcome cheery interlude and good to see her, in her Hogarthian Dr Martens. Had a restrained couple of drinks and some food and generally put the world to rights for a while. She is always full of things that make me laugh. Apparently Tanya calls her Spider Pope when she is in her gym going lycra, and she was dressed in this when her stalker (for she has an over-intense Student admirer) sprang out at her from behind some large bins as she was returning home from the gym. Apparently she screamed, not something one expects from a Spider Pope. Heard from Richard that Holly his little border terrier had died. I know he and Jane will be sad about that. I really enjoyed going for walks with Richard in the morning when I stayed with them with Rufus and Holly surging ab...

Slow to crawl out of bed this morning. A small breakfast for Lorraine and I who answered a Papal Summons to be at The Bath Arms with Catherine (Pope) and Tanya for Catherine's birthday. Catherine and Tanya both looking slim and well. Catherine inspiring everyone as she talked about going to the gym for two hours a day, which she is doing with characteristic devotion and wholeheartedness. Tanya just finishing a course on book indexing, to move from working at the University to become a professional book indexer. This too seems to have made her slim. Guy and Tim where also invited, and Lorraine and I had not seen them for ages.  Guy talking about being chased into Boots by a homeless man randomly shouting Stop Thief!  at him, after seeing Guy at a traffic lights transferring some rubbish from his pockets into his bag. This causing scenes with Boots security, but Guy eventually apologised to. Just a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon, eating roast Sunday lunch, and sipp...

Inexplicably bad hangover this morning. Felt wan and sallow. Wrote radio advert about the plight of Balkan dogs then went into town for a papal audience with Catherine (Pope) in the Bath Arms. I sipped rueful sodas and coffees and ate comforting sausage and mash, and was cheered and inspired as usual by Catherine's conversation. Pleased to get a text from Helen, saying she had the all clear after her recent op. Developed a headache by the late afternoon and laid low, watched a fascinating Horizon documentary about Mesolithic man in Britain, also covering events such flooding of Doggerland in the North Sea. Apparently these people were far more sophisticated than simply being mere hunter gatherers. Read all about it here . It was the flooding of doggerland that made us an island, and created the Channel Islands too. The flooding was triggered it is thought by a tsunami, coming from a vast collapse of material in Norway into the north sea.

Up early and another early start, sending off some more poems, and generally being industrious. I bused into town to have a really enjoyable afternoon with Catherine Pope, a papal audience in the Bath Arms where we had a couple of beers and plates of lunchtime fish and chips. The world was put to rights and the woes and triumphs of writers and publishers discussed. As well as being a sagacious and clever person Catherine makes me laugh a good deal. We were discussing my new found love of gardening, at which she was shuddering and said that Tanya was a big gardener too. Catherine said she looked in a front garden and saw something that genuinely interested her, as she had never seen a plant with perforations like that, and snapped a photo of it on her phone to show Tanya till she realised it was a crumpet. Really good to see Catherine because she has such clarity that after discussing my various projects with her I came away with a clear sense of priorities, as well as a copy of Har...

Another day of getting my business sorted out and listening to the rain on the velux roof, feeling decidedly cheery that I had time to get things sorted. Sent off Marketing MS again, and got over myself, after I'd written to Catherine and received a morale stiffening reply. She is a good friend. Then a triage on various pieces of paper, and managed to throw many of them away. Lorraine at the end of one of her school's ofstead inspections and absolutely pleased to be home. We squeezed off early to the Shahi for the last time in the foreseeable future, and returned early and Lorraine sat on the gold sofa in her pyjamas, happier than she had been all week. Below: today's view from my desk.

Up to the smoke again. Saw a complete arch of a rainbow forming a magical gateway into London as the train approached from the south. I took this as a lucky omen. Joined the interminable meeting at 8:30. Most odd way to spend a week, as a fly on the wall with a vague remit, but having to take copious notes.  By agreement, I slipped off early and headed for Victoria. By chance the travel Gods were at their most benign (apart from leaving my old anorak on the train) and I got home, met Lorraine, changed and we jumped into a taxi to the Cameron Gallery in Hove. Here met Robin and Nick. A lovely venue. When I arrived at the venue, I opened my specs case to find it empty necessitating the borrowing of Nick's glasses which happily were okay. The couple who owned it were pleasant and helpful - and the art there was great too. We set up, and people drifted in, enjoyed twice as much bubbly as the Lewes crowd. Catherine Pope came, Anton, Rosie, and John coming to his first poetry reading...

The news full of Scotland's vote to stay part of the United Kingdom. It seems to have been a head over heart decision by the Scots. Feel rather sorry for the dismal yes voters, their romanticised vision of an independent Scotland narrowly voted down.   For me, a papal audience with Catherine Pope in the Bath Arms, talking about publishing, politics and plumbers (she has an excellent one called Evita apparently). A bite to eat and a couple of pints. I always enjoy my lunches with Catherine. Sadly had to hurry home, however for an afternoon briefing from the French Bloke and Pat on a job in London starting early on Monday. Ended the afternoon  with Beth and her pal Laura up in the mezzanine playing music as Betty was printing out scripts and so on for her class tomorrow, as well as her panto part to highlight her lines and stage directions, before the girls making off. Lorraine home  and we went to talk to two of our neighbours to discuss some tiresome legal stuff and s...