a few more words than usual...

Spiralling towards midsummer already… with weather to match - three days of it, at least.
Life goes on here at a very gentle pace at either end of the mayhem that is my working day, recently picking up the pace at weekends to include travelling to reconnect with friends and family.
I have at last joined Pershore library, which is open late on Fridays… unlimited supplies of fiction being a mixed blessing - I’m always at risk of succumbing to immersing myself in the fiction of others rather than my own. My last novel narrative session? The last Bank Holiday in May… my timetabled session to work up that rough draft into the main narrative scuppered by my borrowed laptop crashing on me, subsequently resisting all efforts to resurrect it.
Back to the drawing board (or the handwritten notebook); my fictional world is (temporarily) stalled again. As I’ve borrowed yet another laptop - this one with the facility for a memory stick - hopefully I’ll see an actual printed manuscript growing in the very near future… The typing has to begin from the very beginning, as I have no means of converting from floppy to CD/USB compatible memory stick… I’m looking forward to developing the existing narrative this time round, though.
We were left with no power following the strong winds last Bank Holiday; reminder of how reliant on electricity we are... I missed proper breakfast ( no cooker or microwave), my morning cuppa (no kettle), being able to phone/receive calls in the evening (no landline without the base station), and music. The fridge had a boost from my landlord’s spare generator - passed between me and my fellow tenants in the adjoining cottage. Such a boon to have a wind-up torch… unlimited reading without chewing through batteries!
My writing life mostly has a different configuration in Wych Avon to the Frome incarnation, but there are points of overlap. Crysse and I are still working together with ideas for our live n’ lippy poetry duo, including a performance at Fromeside as part of a Stepping Out Theatre Company/Dreamweavers collaborative project. We booked the media arts centre for Annabelle to give us direction and feedback; a very useful session (and great fun, which is what it’s all about anyway). Crysse is doing the bulk of the Dreamweavers project co-ordination and preparation with Steve - the Coleridge Walk dates are set for September, with a follow-up before the project’s conclusion in November.
A full day off for my six-monthly scrape and polish at the dentist allowed a day of dossing about drinking cappucino with other writers. David Johnson of Paralalia in Bristol came through to speak to the Frome Library group and perform at the Poetry Café; he joined Crysse and Ali and I at Diva’s Café between commitments. This is the bit I miss most about being so far from all familiar haunts and contacts; writerly conversations and contacts.
Driving home after the Poetry Café, full of fizzing ideas, I’d add and performances. The Garden Café is a lovely venue for poetry events, and the audience is always receptive and appreciative, but they seemed particularly so that night… Or maybe I just soaked it up more greedily than usual, given the scarcity of such opportunities in Wych Avon.
Last weekend, Atholl, Jemma and I were invited to Isla’s first communion. Two days in London, surrounded by a multicultural ambience… The music of French and Dida in the air, Russian, African and French accents… elegant woman, handsome men and energetic children of all ages - all collected together by a Catholic ceremony. In church, the bridal iconography a little unsettling - so many frills and fripperies decked with a ton of bling… An Irish priest to rival Father Ted’s finest… and no camera, battery flat as a pancake. Best just sup the champagne, then…
Which brings me to my referral to the Liver Clinic in Birmingham (I should be a radio 2 DJ with these suspect links); not sure quite what to expect… I’ll cross that one when I come to it. Better to approach it with no preconceptions…