This weekend I attended a very fine book launch in Suffolk.
The book is hand-printed and hand-bound by the folk at Shed Press Publications. I received a complimentary copy for helping them out with some type, which made me feel very smug.
The poems are short and sweet and there are some very moody photos accompanying them (which are actual photos, developed in their darkshed and mounted within two pages).
A special publication indeed, almost too nice to read. There will be a London launch soon - I shall post the date up here, you should come along.
And seeing as we were in Suffolk, one of my favourite places, there was no point in resisting the call of the sea. And also the call of the beach hut with it's log burner.
The sun was out, or it would have been out were it not for all the clouds in front of it.
There's something very pleasing about being on the beach in the wind and the cold, seeing it all wild and proper, and being prepared for it all wrapped up warm. Unlike in the summer when it gets treated like a great banal sofa.
We had a run around, I've got some new boots - dirty great waterproof things that were very fine for kicking the foam off the heads of receding waves.
Then a walk through the village (where I liked this perfect pom-pom of berries), a read of the papers, a drink and an eat and a sleep before heading home.