Wednesday and still on holiday but I am up early and sitting outside of the cottage in the courtyard relaxing with a hot water and reflecting before the heat of the day. Its one of those quiet moments as my partner sleeps and I listen to the sound of the sea lapping up against the beach. I make some odd notes about the website I am planning for my poetry. I am not sure what to call it and I am not sure about how I want to structure the content. So I jot a few ideas until my partner joins me and we have breakfast outside.

We decide to go to the shop to get bits and pieces of food for the day, it also means that the post cards that were written after breakfast can be posted. All goes to plan and we return to the cottage with everything we need. There follows a long period of reading. I am almost at the end of Ryka Aoki’s Light from Uncommon Stars.

The book is a strange mixture of science fiction and fantasy involving souls, demons, a transgender woman, doughnuts and purple aliens and violins. It is an interesting book whose author is an American trans woman and a professor of English at an American University. She is also a poet and essayist. I read until it is time for the afternoon walk along the beach. My partner and I walk down to our favourite groyne and sit chatting about some of our past and how we are now, and all the time the sound of the sea rumbles a few yards away. Time moves on and we walk back to the cottage and I continue to read. Tea time rolls around my partner clears the kitchen and I cook pasta with a tomato and mince source. Full of pasta I finish my book. Its a devil gets cheated happy Hollywood ending where love over comes all and there is universal hope in the face of “Endplague”, that inevitable end of everything that appears to be an affliction that appears to face all individuals, cultures, civilisations no matter what planet they are from. My one bone of contention was that when ever trans people are written as characters they are almost inevitably have time in the pay for sex industry, which I am pretty sure is just not representative of trans folk. Anyway I finish the book and watch a football match, washing up at half time. The cottage does not have a dishwasher, so basic! Having watched yet another English team get beaten on penalties, you would think professional footballers paid millions could put the ball in the net from 1 2 yards, but apparently not. All the pundits were saying how well the English team had done and that they deserved lots of credit, while I am pretty sure that all the fans that spent money to go and see their team and watched them miss 3 out of 5 penalties were, to a person, thinking “Wankers. I draft the blog, take my meds and go to bed, having checked my messages for the last time in the day.