under another sun

A call at sixish this morning from Maureen who was worried about Pat, meant Lorraine had to get up and zoom around.  Eventually they were able to get advice, and later Pat was feeling lots better. An alarming and stressful way to start a morning, especially after getting to bed late after hanging out with the boyos last night.   I went for walk mostly in-between the rain, on the home straight now with Jung.  A terrible incident this afternoon at Seaford Station. A boy was stabbed to death by another boy. Both 16, and rather surreal in this sleepy town. Traffic and travel affected by the incident, with busses diverted, the station closed and so on. Lorraine passed the incident in the car on the way home not knowing what it was.    I managed to get a 12  to take me to Kemptown, where I attended a reading by Kay Syrad upstairs in Kemptown bookshop. I was a bit early and popped into The Barley Mow, which was literally next door, and found Charlotte in there. We...

Lorraine off this morning to take Pat and Maureen to a celebration of life, for Pat's cousin Tony, who I met only once many years ago, in the Isle of Sheppy. They stayed overnight to make things easier. So I had the day to myself. I went to the gym, then in the afternoon went to Lewes. Charlotte was having a birthday party for local poet pals. Twelve guests in all, including mutual pals Robin, SJB, Stephen Bone and Janet Sutherland. I'd never been to Charlotte's place before. I met a poet with purple hair lost like me, and we found our way to the door, was let in by Pete, Charlotte's husband, and climbed up a flight of stairs, then outside, up a zigzag path in the garden and then found ourselves on the top of a mound, overlooking all of Lewes and the downs beyond. A rather magical place that can only be accessed through Charlotte's house. It was there we all read a poem (except Robin) and had a poetic altogethery time.   There was an immediate calamity however. Ther...

Woke up this morning and immediately went to my desk to start writing a good first draft of a poem. I like it when you wake up and something insists on being written.  Later Janet and Lesley come around for lunch. We had a lovely time, they looked at the garden with interest, and Lorraine cooked flatbreads and we had little bits of buffet style food, and cups of tea and generally talked for hours. All very relaxed and fascinating to hear about the book that Janet is now working on drawing again on a family archive and a well travelled ancestor. Fond farewells with Janet and Lesley, who I liked very much, now that I've got to know her better. She swims regularly in the sea at Seaford, so I shall keep my eyes peeled. 

Lorraine out to her personal trainer this morning, and then seeing Penny. I spent some of the morning, writing my new horror story, which is going fairly well, if slowly. I enjoyed allowing the story, which hasn't a name yet but features a rabbit suit,  to fall thought a new trapdoor of psychological disturbance.  I am still coughing like a docker and feeling a bit run down, and fancying a sleep most afternoons. Had a nice chat with Mum, who had decided to take herself off to The Waggon for lunch.  Heavy rain today. Went out for a walk, having been indoors, and a huge thundery cloud arrived as I got to the sea, but I made it back before a drenching. In the evening Lorraine and I crept off to The Crypt to see Janet Sutherland reading. It is a gorgeous venue for reading poetry. Nice to chat to Antony Mair who was there. Janet read from the new book she is starting, and the work seemed very good. Alex Josephy read with her. Her work wasn't for me, though I liked her and she ...

Up early and a fast breakfast before recording with Robin, and generally having a good chat about the podcast. Beth off this morning too. Then went outside to do some gardening with Lorraine, ended up moving lots of big pebbles the previous owners had strewn on top of a flour bed an hour or so. Then a highly relaxed afternoon with Lorraine, me reading Janet Sutherland's latest book The Messenger House . Spoke to mum to confirm I am coming up tomorrow.  Lorraine and I watched Death in Paradise, the harmless fun returned for its 100th episode. Baffling why  we enjoy it so much. But the formula of Caribbean scenery, mild mannered murders, predictability, and general coziness were priceless during lockdown, and still enjoyable now. Watched match of the day this evening. Chelsea took a mauling from a mediocre Wolves team. Open mutiny in the crowd. Everything is wrong. The manager seems clueless, the new club owner has presided over a period of chaos, and the team look are playing ...

So a certain Beatles tune had a lot of resonance this birthday morning, but Lorraine said she would still love me. I got up and fed the cats and brought us some green teas. Opened my laptop, and clicked a link that mum had sent and saw an orchestra of bears playing Happy Birthday. Lorraine gave me a present of a Keith A Pettit print, and some stem ginger.  A few cards, one with £20 in it from Pat and Maureen, signed Mum and Dad,  but a humblingly large amount of messages, calls and texts from friends and family. Thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have to waste today working. Even my Godbairns texted me.  Season 4 of the Planet Poetry podcast began today, with my interview with Ian McMillan . When Robin and I started it, it was almost an experiment. Now it's a thing, as they say. Now the lounge is painted, Lorraine and I played games of dragging the furniture into different places, as well as fixing curtain rails and rehanging curtains and so on. Amanda now busy paintin...

Sprang out of bed at an alarming 8:30 and made tea and spent a bit of time attempting to locate my Mojo. Prepped for my conversation with Janet Sutherland, and spent an enjoyable hour or so talking with her from 11:00 am. A few technical glitches but her son was able to sort out. I admire her poetry greatly, so having a conversation with her, and hearing her poems was an absolute pleasure. Chatting about how good Sarah Barnsley's new book is at the end too.  Fond farewells with Jade this morning as she set off back to St Andrew's today. It is difficult for Sam and Jade, but they are making the best of things I think. Glad I didn't have to face such an epic journey. Instead we found the boxes marked Christmas, and put away all the decorations. Both of us with mixed feelings about it. I suppose there is something tidier about it.   A nice chat with Mum on FaceTime. Mum was sitting near the front door, and Wynford from next door knocked, and invited himself and his wife and da...

A day without freelance work, which was good. Although I had some bits and pieces to do. Lorraine being careful, and taking daily PCR tests, in case she picked up anything nasty from school. A walk in the Knepp Estate with Dawn and Paul, and Rosie and Innis, staying outside by way of avoiding Omicron. Paul told me he had links to the place, and knew the ecologist there and gave talks with them. A long walk for Lorraine, but it was fun. It is a large farm that has been rewilded and has cranes and beavers and ancient looking cattle with meaningful horns. Also large lakes.  Ate food outside on a little wall, where Lorraine quietly scoffed all the cheesy biscuits Rosie had brought with her. Paul and Dawn getting on very well, which is good to see.  The estate has an old eel house, which made me think of a poem by Janet Sutherland from her collection Home Farm 'pools where eels still hide trapped in a storage well,/somersaulting, tumbling and unbalancing.'

Far from springy again this morning, but I made a small but achievable list of things, and simply plodded through them. I wrote a proposal for taking Magnificent Grace into schools, and sent this to Lorraine, and wrote to Sarah, Robin and Charlotte to plot poetically about readings early next year -- to coincide with Sin Cycle bursting out into the world.  Also having spent some time looking at the poems of Janet Sutherland , who I like very much, I did a fanboy post about her brilliant poems on my other blog. I adore her poems, and always get the feeling of wishing that I could have written her poems or something just like them. Made an excellent chicken stew tonight, even if I say so myself. Masterchef tonight, and another early night.

Up early, with Lorraine, who scuttled off early. Beth off for another day of flat clearing. I worked quietly in the morning, and then went to the gym. Did my usual round of lightish weights and then started on the cross trainer. After about four minutes stabbing chest pains began, which I put down to indigestion. After a few minutes of this I made myself rather alarmed, to the extent I climbed off the cross trainer and mooched towards my doctor's surgery which, now it has moved happens to be across the road. However by the time I got near its door I was fine, and then burped, curing everything. I went straight back to the gym feeling sheepish, and picked up where I left off.  Lorraine home a bit early today, and we had a nice chat before I travelled to Lewes on a windy night to the needle makers reading. There were four readers among them Clare Best, and Robert Hamberger, both of whom were excellent. Another chap read prose, and there was a woman reading the sort of poems I find...

Writing a new list today, and sending two poetry MS off. Then working on Nothing Compares to You my long story and writing a new mega-list. To the gym at lunchtime, and pushed myself quite hard. While parts of me are stringy and wifey, I have a fat stomach, despite going to the gym. But going is better than not going I suppose. Sigh. Home, more work and reading some more of Matthew G Rees collection of stories Keyhole , great stuff. And also looking at Janet Sutherland's Home Farm , which is a gorgeous collection of poems. Rather humbled by the quality of both.  Chatted to Mum this evening, who had been having trouble with her front door bell. It doesn't work, although when next door's bell is pressed, hers rings. Maddening.

Woke up this morning with the solution to the problem of a short story I have been rewriting called The Inheritor. My subconscious has been doing lots of this nocturnal sorting out for me. I simply rewrote the story today, and also sent off a proposal to a US agent about my children's book. My watch battery ran out  and I looked at my wrist 100 times, and I popped along to the gym. Chatted with Betty about her new business/acting wheeze she is starting with a pal. Really excited for her. In the evening down to the Grand Central for the launch of a new poetry magazine, called Finished Creatures edited by Jan Heritage. Lots of poet pals there, including Robin, Sarah, Stephen, Charlotte, Jeremy, Janet Sutherland, Catherine Smith, I also met Charlotte's colleague Lizzie who edits Viva Brighton. The readings were fine, but I didn't seem to be able to tune into it all tonight. Great to see everyone though. Charlotte, Sarah and I got chips afterwards and went our separate way...

Raining and cool again today. The scary winter heatwave seems to be over for now. Another excellent day's writing. I have a target of 80k words for this story, and I was over 22k already. I also went off to get a hair cut, and then went to the gym, and did my usual workout despite not feeling as if I had much gas in the tank. Walking home, I was contacted by my old work pal Pat saying he had some work on a pitch for me next week. I am hoping, what with this offer, and the pencilled in work I have for my friends in Chiswick that at least one of them will materialise. This is good news. Finished reading Under the Skin . In the evening I went to the pig hog poetry reading, where Janet Sutherland was reading from her new book Home Farm. I am a big fan of her work, although have not read the book yet. Catherine Smith and John McCullough both there too, but I had to awkwardly say hello from afar. Had a chat with her in the interval. I was moaning about having lots of rejection...

Up and did some work today, as Lorraine was having to sort some stuff out too. Then we walked down in the afternoon to Grand Central where Louise Tondeur launched informally her short story collection, Unusual Places. It was quite an informal affair, though lots of poetry pals were there, Louise's wife Sarah Barnsley obviously, but also Jeremy, Charlotte, Robin, Stephen, Janet Sutherland and John McCullough among others. Lou read a very good extract from one of the stories, as young Zach encouraged people to buy the book. Lorraine and I did, naturally. Lorraine and I talked to Bob the husband from the husband and and wife team behind Cultured Llama the publishers. Then home, after this pleasant interlude, before we headed out again to have an surprise birthday bite organised by Klaudia for Anton. We met in a newly-opened burger joint called Patty and Bun. Anne, Anna, my excellent godbairns Klaudia and Oskar and L and I tucked into various burgers and had a cheery meal. Nice to se...

Up and doing things in the garden. The drought has done horrid things to it, and there is little point in planting anything at the moment, as it won't survive us going away on holiday. To B&Q where we bought a willow lattice that fits perfectly over the bars of our Juliette balcony. Which means that, once the bathroom is done, we can sleep with the doors open to the sky, without the danger of Brian flinging himself off onto the rooftop, only for me to have to rescue him. In the afternoon off to Eastbourne, for a summer garden party. It is great that Lorraine didn't have to work today, as she normally does on Sunday. We drove alongside the downs, which are unusually golden coloured and dry. Lovely party it was too, and catered, so there were smart young men opening the door and leading us to the garden, and handing out finger food and topping up your drinks. Robin and Nick have done amazing things with their garden, which is huge and has been elegantly designed. Had lo...

More Janet Sutherland 's Bone Monkey on the train. Poetry that really speaks to me. Work presentation today, and I found myself drifting into comedic mode, which I probably need to reign in a bit. A call from my French friends, saying they had won a French pharmaceutical marketing prize,  Empreintes 2018 , for a campaign I had created for them about animal health and rinderpest last year. I also have a spot of new work to do over the next week or so for them on a really interesting brief. London Grip nicely and speedily reviewed the Truths anthology here . Otherwise I went for a saunter at lunchtime, just wanting to be outside at present. Home. All well, but Lorraine fighting off a bug and a bit tired after her pilates. Both of us eager for sleep.

Still gorgeous this morning, and unwillingly to work, whining at Lorraine in the car before she dropped me off. Into London without incident, and work fine despite straining at the leash to be outside. Sloped along the canals and other places at lunch. After work, looked at poems in the train. Some of my own, which I decided were unsavable, which is always freeing thing.  Really enjoying reading Bone Monkey by Janet Sutherland at the moment. I love her poems. Home, and the air cooler by the time I reached Brighton. A salady dinner with Lorraine, and we found ourselves watching some kind of Eurovision song nonsense on TV for a while. An early and sensible night. I found myself under the motorway in a crowded with schoolboys skateboard area and two empty basketball courts. I snapped one of the courts, below, and noticed later that someone had painted Fuck Basket Ball on the board, which spoke to me of some would be ball player's thwarted ambition.