So here we are. Mid-Summer. If you dodge between the raindrops, it's pleasant. Most days it's not too hot to sit in the conservatory, which is where I do a lot of reading and sorting out of poems in my head (not my poems, other people's). We have even got new basketty chairs...
Yesterday I got out though and went to hear four of 'my' poets reading in WordPower in Edinburgh at lunchtime: Matt Merritt, James W Wood, Andy Philip, Rob A Mackenzie (the importance of an initial!). And to my great delight I met Eddie Gibbons (watch out for his next book - not long now).
Edinburgh was buzzing with talk of the Kevin Cadwallender wedding (isn't it a superb phrase? - the Kevin Cadwallender Wedding? It's a poem in itself.) Colin Will was at the reading in his full highland attire, ready to officiate wedding-wise: he looked wonderful.
It was sunny. Then it was raining. Then it was sunny and raining at the same time. Then it was hot. Then it was cool. Then it was hotncoldwarmnwetsummerainy. Splish.
The reading was great. The air was electric, the books (real PAPER) cherished us on all sides, the new Tom Leonard was on sale, the boys had brought their hardback books, their pamphlets, their new poems. They shared their work magnificently.
I don't go out much: can't do that and the paperwork at the same time. But this is an unusual week. Yesterday there was Edinburgh. On Wednesday, I'm going to the Michael Marks Award thingy in the British Library (HappenStance being one of four short-listed presses). Then next Saturday I'm going to be poet myself at the Poem and a Pie event in Water Yeat Village Hall. I've bought a new bra (necessary prop, hope it fits).
Meanwhile, still pulling together Cliff Ashby's Sampler (looking really good), Mark Halliday's first draft and then back to Sally Festing. Then the remarkable Rose Cook. And Alison Brackenbury and Clare Best next on the menu. Wish I could work faster... No I don't. The pace is right. It'll happen.