Yesterday was a good day.

Jabberwocky, which are very blue and striking. It’s lovely to read my poem “Tattoo Destiny” from the pages of the slim volume, and remain satisfied with what I wrote.

Then I received an email from Andy Cox, editor of the British horror magazine Black Static, to inform me that he’d like to buy my short story “Vic”. The deal is agreed, and payment received, which marks it as my fastest negotiation with an editor. I’m delighted “Vic” has found a welcoming home.

Otherwise I’ve been about the usual things, and have not felt moved to record them. I suppose I’m trying to experience these daily events, and appreciate them in the moment, rather than tallying them up afterwards.

Outside the sun shines from an azure sky dotted with suspicious clouds. Among the unruly tufts of grass in my back garden prides of dandelions patrol their domain. Their fierce golden manes swish in the wind, and attract a pair of zig-zagging white butterflies. Fans of pink blossoms wave from the tree.

Good things happen. Bad things happen. The sun rises and sets.

The garden changes with the seasons.

I write. And dream.