There is
something deeply satisfying about a day of administration. There’s something
enlivening about  striking lines through
that  list of things to do,  and setting up
meetings with people I like about matters I enjoy. Even paying bills is a
pleasure. Seeing the red flag markers  disappear after replying to long overdue emails
is pleasing.  Futurity is good because
the present is now.    The entire day strikes me as confirmation.

I went to a
poetry reading tonight at Oxfam in Marleybone, read there too.  Note
to self, beware those who use the term
Experimental poetry.    Nothing a poet
likes more than reading in a bookshop. I love it. I would forgo the stage any
day, for the bookshop.  To be surrounded
by them  while reading from them is a big hearted pleasure.  I'm amongst friends.It reminds me
of when I began reading poetry to audience in the late 80’s. Independent
bookshops with their scraggly critical customer base and eccentric dedicated
workers used to be the lifeblood of new poetry. Poets are scraggly too, independent and dedicated..  

The reading
ended after the audience had enough of being pummelled with the self regarding
personality of Oxfams Poet In Residence and I crossed the road with National
Poet of Wales, Gwyneth Lewis where we met up with The Journalist and ate at
Strada  till our hungry hearts were
contented. Now if you want to see a poet, there’s a poet, Gwyneth Lewis. Lewis shall
be on a fellowship at Harvard
University for a year
from September.

So there we
were writers the three of us, fed up.  By fed up I mean, we had just eaten! A cab was hailed, Gwenyth went to her hotel in Kings Cross while the journalist and I continued.  Home draws closer under a full, full  moon. The best performance of the evening goes to The Full Moon.