under another sun

Another scorcher. Because of the climate crisis, and as the owner of a garden, enjoy this hot weather is a mixed blessing. I am getting daily emails from South East Water urging me to not use water. It's a drought, and there is no sign of rain. Up early and a quick edit on the new episode, and then some good writing. Much of the latest episode is about poetry for children. Suddenly I was hit by the idea that a couple of my poems, that I have never satisfactorily finished, were actually poems for kids. Being someone who has written children's fiction and poetry it has simply never occurred to me to write poetry for children. This reframing of what I had done, allowed me to complete two poems in a matter of two hours, and left time for struggling with my other website and looking at something for one of my French client, for a non-chargeable five minutes.   Lorraine went off to see an old work pal who lives around the corner, called Helen, who has just retired too, and they had ...

The rain rains in its own time So up early feeling very cheerful today. Lorraine zoomed off to the station having had a sleepover. Got an email from Catriona in Guernsey with a pdf of my Guernsey bus poem, which I might have printed up full size as a poster. Satisfying to see this thing I wrote when I was about 22, more than half a lifetime ago, being given an airing. I've always liked this little poem for the simplicity of its language, and that it is about returning to a specific place I love. And of course seeing your name in print is something I can never tire of. Something from the I Ching that has always resonated with me, I don't have the exact words to hand, but it is: "the clouds are all here, but the rain rains in its own time." This can mean the time you create something isn't necessarily the same time as it will be appreciated. Working on the play competition entry. Given that I've been working on illnesses for the last three months, I decided to ...

On the buses, on the trains Received an email this morning saying that one of my poems is going to be in a Guernsey bus , like an island version of poems on the underground. It would be lovely to see it, but unless I invest in a pair of incredibly powerful binoculars, that won't happen till next year. Cheerfully off with Lorraine to London see Mum and Mase in Edgware. En route, Lorraine left one of her bags on the train, with clothes make up and so on in it. And we didn't realise until we had arrived. Mum is close to being finished on the chemotherapy. And it will be really great when this happens, but she is doing fine despite being somewhat worn out from all the treatments, and dealing with Salty the kitten. All white except for its tail. It has very pink nose and ears, and lets out an affronted lamb-like bleat when you pick it up. He lives in the lap of luxury, and has many toys and is constantly tempted with dainties, which may explain its round belly. In the afternoon, I h...