I am not in the mood for any nonsense from Henry today.
If he gives me grief I'll tell him to find another cleaner/cook/shit picker upper/beauty.
I received an email last night from a man.
Not a real man of course, this one merely runs the Southend Poetry group. Anyway the email was just to tell all recipients that a Poetry Workshop is being held next Saturday afternoon by poet, Tim Cunningham.
I'm tempted to re-schedule my dental appointment in the hope of learning something. The only thing is I don't want to mix with lack lustre 'poets' who write about boats. And who'll gravitate towards Mr Cunningham with their abysmal efforts on how wonderful the fucking Norfolk Broads are.
And memories of my disastrous night earlier this year with the Southend 'Poetry' Group, is turning everything black and putting me off.
So maybe I'll give it a miss.
Back to my real real love...
I'm trying out a new sausage recipe today. So as I pat the cats and rush round like a very frustrated woman I'll have that to keep me company.
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