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This week I have been: alone; with a cat that needs pills and won’t take them; with a child that sees rainbows out off the windows of pubs; baking more cakes than two sane people can realistically expect to eat; reading poetry in various places, including walking round and round my kitchen; selling some pamphlets; on a radio show talking about The Jam, Tom Weir and what is necessary about the line; helping officially launch an anthology; meeting someone in a pub who wanted to “talk to me about what I write and why”; sitting in some poets’ version of a coven talking about everything I don’t understand about poetry while drinking red wine and blue cheese and wondering if I have ever been happier without getting undressed; getting an email from one of my favourite poets that says “Fuck, ‘the necessary line’ is brilliant”; I am exhausted and I haven’t written a new line of poetry for 6 weeks.

Totally Wired, I’m totally wired….Oh fuck Stan Laurel and The Fall…I may need committing…or something stronger than port.