(Working backwards) - my son's wedding in Cumbria on 7 October, the first family get together at my new house in Wales, a writing week in Italy with Blake Morrison.
Waking early just as dawn was breaking in Tuscany and seeing three (roe) deer; waking early in Cumbria and hearing the tawny owls continuing their night-time conversation until first light.
I read the TLS on the train back to Wales from Carlisle (we were the last, very slow train through on Wednesday morning when the main line was badly affected by flooding). Pamela Clemit's review of Coastal Works: Cultures of the Atlantic Edge (eds Nicholas Allen, Nick Groom, and Jos Smith) caught my attention. The book includes an essay on Cumbrian Poet, Norman Nicholson. To me this was a new angle on Nicholson. I had not thought of him as being a poet of the Atlantic Edge before. "His terrain is narrow - the coastal strip bounded by the Solway Firth in the north and the Duddon Estuary in the south, and hemmed in by the mountains - but he digs deep. Nicholson's vision, as described by Andrew Gibson in a superb essay, is of a coastal wasteland devastated by generations of industrialists, entrepreneurs and governments, to which he (a devout Christian) gave a spiritual dimension."
I've been away for 2 weeks so it's good to by back and to tackle some of the boxes which haven't been unpacked yet. The workmen have nearly finished. I thought I had decluttered before I moved but now I find things I haven't looked at since June and ask myself, do I really need them?