Brian's mother died today - I felt quite sad; although I didn't know her that well, Brian's a friend of mine, and his mother, in the few times I saw her, was always kind and welcoming to me. She had an aura of calm, which I appreciated very much - not to mention a rather mischievous sense of humour sometimes. A woman of faith whose family meant everything to her. Not many of that ilk around these days. She'd been ill for some time - cancer's a terrible thing - but even so. However, apparently, she woke up on Tuesday and asked for a glass of champagne - which is something nice to remember, and a perfectly valid request, in my opinion. I hope she's bloody well having a huge glass right now. Ah well.
Apart from that, and a flurry of bad news phonecalls, I've spent the rest of the day sending out my poetry collection to Pighog Press (http://www.pighog.co.uk) who've asked to see it, and getting another 1000 words of "The Gifting" out. It felt good to be doing something definite, but an unpleasant day still.
Have just finished reading Henry Shukman's "Darien Dogs" - which is a novella, plus 4 short stories. The actual novella is rather slow and derivative, in my opinion (Conrad did it better ...), but the short stories are top class stuff. Breathtaking and terribly sad. Stick to what you know, Mr Shukman - and give us more short stories, please.
Tonight, we have Robin & Gavin coming for dinner - it will be great to see them, but right now I wish it might have been a different day.
No three nice things today - it doesn't seem right.