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Diary of an independent publisher:
The rain is falling and it’s cold outside, I can see the garden from where I’m sitting. I would like a Japanese garden. I am drinking a cup of Chai.
Earlier, I took a hot-cross bun from the freezer
and toasted it. There are roasted vegetables in the fridge, left over from Tuesday night.
I contemplate COVID. I touch my face.
I need a shave. The rain fall becomes heavier.
I put on a jumper and start writing.
In the late afternoon I water indoor plants and go through a box of old photos.
Later, I shave and then drive into town to shop, have coffee and
to buy fish and chips. It is still raining.
Back home I unwrap my chow
on the kitchen bench and add lemon and salt and cut bread. I am dressed well. So well I would feel comfortable going to a movie premiere in this garb tonight.
But I won’t be doing that.
I grab napkins and turn on the heater. I turn on Spotify. Pieces of a Dream. The sun comes out in time for a sunset.
www.thelastpostmagazine.com
The rain is falling and it’s cold outside, I can see the garden from where I’m sitting. I would like a Japanese garden. I am drinking a cup of Chai.
Earlier, I took a hot-cross bun from the freezer
and toasted it. There are roasted vegetables in the fridge, left over from Tuesday night.
I contemplate COVID. I touch my face.
I need a shave. The rain fall becomes heavier.
I put on a jumper and start writing.
In the late afternoon I water indoor plants and go through a box of old photos.
Later, I shave and then drive into town to shop, have coffee and
to buy fish and chips. It is still raining.
Back home I unwrap my chow
on the kitchen bench and add lemon and salt and cut bread. I am dressed well. So well I would feel comfortable going to a movie premiere in this garb tonight.
But I won’t be doing that.
I grab napkins and turn on the heater. I turn on Spotify. Pieces of a Dream. The sun comes out in time for a sunset.
www.thelastpostmagazine.com