under another sun

Kenny Towers abuzz with activity this morning, Beth off teach and Lorraine and I falling asleep again, then realising I was hideously late for Lewes. Lorraine kindly drove me there then did some shopping for tonight's beano and then went to do her pilates session. I went to the Town Hall in Lewes to attend the Frogmore Poetry/Needlewriters/Telltale stand in the societies fair for an hour.  I wandered about a bit and fell into conversation with the Vikings, a pleasant couple who were fully dressed in dark ages gear and I was invited to heft a variety of weapons including a spikeless mace, a sword and a shield. Their main business is battle re-enactment, and 'competitive' battles, which seems to be a bit like rugby with axes.  To the stand where I met Jeremy from Frogmore, and spent an hour with Charlotte Gann, who is a fantastic poet and had been kind enough to review The Nightwork for Frogmore. For all kinds of reasons the chat I had with Charlotte about poetry was one...

Burning of the clocks Woken up at four in the morning by a mugging in the twitten. I don't know who was mugged, just heard a lot of shouting, and running and a demand to "give us everything". I sprang out of bed and phoned the cops, but everyone concerned had sped away before I had reached downstairs. Laborious descriptions needed, while I stood naked in the dark and the perpetrators legged it. How did I know it was a mugging? I looked out of the windows to confirm nobody was around or hurt. Silence returned and I went back to bed, later hearing two policemen quietly talking and checking the twitten. All seemed like a dream by morning. My house is like Tom Bombadil's house in the Lord of the Rings, the bit where the hobbits are told to heed no nightly noises. A lovely slow day. To lunch at the Sussex Yeoman with Lorraine and Cath and Hywel, who is over from Iceland where he works as an archaeologist specialising in Vikings. Interesting to hear what he's up to, inc...