Glasses

I have lost my glasses. So I’m finding it hard to work. Actually, the two things are related in different ways. Maybe it’s the weight of different pressures that is sending me running for a displacement activity. In all honesty, it isn’t very unusual for me to find that happening.

I’m surprised to find that I am actually concerned about the fact of not having my glasses. I only got them last June. Prior to that I hadn’t had any for a couple of years and I was getting on fine. Driving? No problem. Using the computer? Pah! Easy! I don’t wear them all the time, but I took them off the other day because it was raining while I was out and the world became blurred. Not just a bit blurry. Full on what-am-I-looking-at? I’m thinking that this might be tied in with the little noise I sometimes make now when I’m putting my socks on.

On the positive side I’ve been booked to do a gig. In London, no less. It should be fun. Must sort out the travel. I’m sure there’s washing up to do too.

Leicester, Sunday night, audience of five, no dog shocker.

Why do it? Thirteen poets ranging from good to great, nice venue, usual lines of publicity, lots of people saying they’ll come. Audience of five on the night. A good five, but five nonetheless. I got my suit on, got my hopes up. I dragged myself out of the house, having woken up about five in the morning (a worrying trend) and thought positive. People will come. Truth was it was bloody freezing out, new venue, new night and Sunday at that. Everybody was nice. Poetry was good. But it’s hard to be all yeah-hoogragh about gigs sometimes when you don’t feel like you’re getting anywhere with it. Maybe I’m getting poetry-d out. I’m glad the audience enjoyed it.