A Heron on the Bridge

Very quiet at the moment on the blog front because I'm in the UK attempting a punishing schedule of work, packing up the house for the winter (to return to Italy) and catching up with friends and relatives.  The weather is arctic here in the north (6 degrees last night) with grey skies, cloud, rain and a bitter wind.  And it's only September!!!     But walking into the town yesterday, we found a heron standing on the rail of the footbridge and, for once, he didn't immediately fly away.   A rare moment of sunshine made the moment complete.

Tomorrow - Saturday 24th of September -  I'm running an all day poetry workshop for the Sedbergh Literature Festival, The Write Idea, on the theme of memory and imagination, with a look at form and patterning. 

The Dreaded Three O'clocks

I've been having an attack of the dreaded Three O'clocks. That is the time when, without fail, I wake up if I've got anything on my mind. Sometimes it's just that there's something urgently demanding to be written down, but most often it's because I'm worrying. The demons loom large at three o'clock.

It's not the sort of waking that's cosy, when you can lie there dozing in that dreamy state half in and half out of sleep. No, this is stark, wide-awake, with your blood pounding round your body and your mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. Impossible to lie still. I've learned from experience to get up, make a cup of tea (with biscuits!) and I pad through the house like a ghost, write a little, read a little, do email..... I go back to bed about five. In winter it's still dark, but in summer three o'clock is the start of the dawn chorus and by five the heron is fishing on the weir and the whole world is awake. Perversely - that's when I can go back to sleep!




At the moment, it's got a lot to do with a new project I'm fermenting. A novel this time. Which is a scary idea - my last one still hasn't found a publisher. But somehow without a book on the boil I feel like a sad Texan - 'all hat and no cattle'!