To Believe
A brighter day, Lorraine and I went on a trip to Brighton Recycling Centre, whose organisation impressed us. Waved in and kept apart as we emptied bags of cardboard from Beth's move, and a few bags of garden waste. Drove past a pub, The Fox on the Downs, where a couple were sitting outside in the sun with pints, wearing PPE. Lorraine had lots of school work to do. The staff member with a temperature tested negative, which is a relief, and one less headache for Lorraine to manage. I just want her to be able to get to the end of the term, now two weeks away, unscathed. I began work on some stuff for mes amis in Paris, on goat, sheep and cow diseases. I began idly putting a file together containing all my published poems in order, going back to 1982. And had to dig out a couple of very early poems indeed. Some better than I had remembered, other sadly worse. Story called Snowfall, sent out to US speculatively was swiftly rejected, but with the caveat that 'we are certain it ...