A Strangely Welcome Summer

After dull, grey yesterday and last night's dream about a dark attic hiding a secret stairway, I woke this morning to hazy sun and a heavy langorous heat. Wondered into town early afternoon to meet Sarah for a coffee in the Pavilion Gardens. Saw her new painting in the studio which I absolutely love; a grey and red piece that felt like a winters afternoon fading towards twilight. can't wait to see it finished.
Sarah left for the studio while I stayed in the park, and finally got around to starting a drawing, the first time I've picked up a pen since losing my job nearly three weeks ago.
One of the great pleasures in life is drawing outside. I was quite content, listening to the unseen sitar playing, watching the jugglers and the pigeons, pretending not to be disturbed by laughing children chasing the aforementioned pigeons.
The shadows crept over the grass though, and the chill drove me to the beach where the evening sun was still evident. Another coffee followed at the Meeting Place cafe. I sat on one of the green tables and watched the sea. A serene sea today, almost completely still, just a few vague ripples, undulating undercurrents, some vast serpent beneath the grey green waters.
Out on the horizon there was a fishing boat. I watched it for a while, and the scattering of seagulls following its lazy path.
I love the sea. It is so certain of itself. Moon mirrors. Timeless rhythm. A back-and-forth that promises forever.
The sea has always been here, and long after I'm gone, it will still be.
There was a kind of peace in that thought, and I walked home.
This is a strange, and perhaps, welcome summer.

The Kindness of People

Meet Sarah on Friday at the bottom of my road. Hot sun and June announcing that summer is here. Walk into town with her. We stop and talk to the Big Issue seller outside of HMV. When she hears of Sarah and mine's money woes she offers us vouchers for free coffee at Greggs. Her kindness was quite staggering. It is interesting that those who have the least are quite often the ones most willing to share what they have.
Meet Jen in the Pavilion Gardens after I leave Sarah. Coffee and tarot cards. A man practises tai-chi in the shadow of the Brighton Pavilion. Great Indian shaped globes and domes and spires. Fluid body movement mirroring architecture.
Down the beach for evening. An impromptu barbecue. Afterwards end up in the pub with Flo (My landlord from years ago. Flo is a nickname. His real is Paul) who buys me drinks all night. Again, the kindness of the people...
Saturday update my cv. Joe comes down for a last weekend in Brighton before he leaves for Poland on the 17th. End up in the Basketmakers. have only a couple of halves before heading back to Andy's where everyone else drinks gin, and I have a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich.
Oh, such a risky day yesterday... so very nearly slept all day. Wake up at 2:42pm. An hour later I find myself drifting back into sleep. The day will be wasted. But sleep is calling. Sleep is here. No. the phone rings. Jen. Meet her in the Pavilion gardens. A beautiful day with only threats of rain. She lends me £20 and we have a few drinks in the pub.
Again, the kindness of people.
I won't forget it.

Fragments in Nine Lines.

Too much red wine on Sunday
made Monday only three hours.
I slept the rest.

Yesterday, I walked along the beach
under white grey skies
in the drizzle.

I saw a windmill on Sunday,
black against the sea,
like a god of childhood beetles.