Friday, 28 March 2014

A year has gone past since last Friday

Where to start:

A poem put up on a closed group, hell's bells, do I want to risk that being published?

Cuddling a baby and seeing her intellectual processes

Chatting and laughing in 2 cafes

Fire, welcoming people, knocks and bangs on our front and back door, cards everywhere

No more anxiety about Arabic homework

Builders, bricks, diggers, lorries, little cafe with their own kettle beside the garage

Fixing for the archaeologists to come along asap

Poetry in Oxford, meeting Stephen Watts, asking Adnan Al-Sadegh my 2 best questions

Sitting in the Green room at the Pegasus, reading Arabic with someone who did 2 years at SOAS

Waiting for my 11pm impulse buys from Amazon to be delivered, book heaven

Hearing 'Happy Birthday' played for me by the busker in Wallingford, a work colleague arranged that

Calls with my parents and brother from Scotland, in between their life of parties and walks up hills

Booking a June weekend at Lower Shaw Farm and poetry events in Swindon in May

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