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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