A view of Brancaster beach, which figures in a poem I’ve just written, mainly about the difficult last few days but also a little bit about Brancaster beach.

Yesterday was very quiet: I wasn’t feeling up to much, but I wrote lots of e-mails and spoke to a few people on the phone. Today was busier: I got up reasonably early and walked up to the sorting office to post off Andrew’s card and present. Then Dot and I drove to the garage, where we got a ridiculous estimate for the vandal-created dents on our car: £1500. Pretty straightforward, said the bodyshop man: it just needs a new roof and a new bonnet. Although we’ll only be paying one sixth of this, I still feel indignant.

On we went to Wells and Big Blue Sky, who bought 12 of my poetry books!! Seems likely they would be interested in smaller booklets, too. Had very encouraging conversation with owner, then moved on to Holkham for a sandwich before heading home via the Walsingham Farm Shop. Towards home had violent stomach upset and only just made it. What next? My body should sort itself out.

The weather switched from calm and warm early on to very wet and unpleasant on the way home, but it seems to have reverted to reasonably pleasant again, though with occasional drops of rain. Shortly the Tuesday Gang will appear. Potatoes are baking.