Posting and packets

I don't know whether I can fold or post or packet any more things! I think I'm posted out. The subscriber mailshot this week took all last weekend, plus Monday afternoon and evening and Thursday afternoon and evening. I keep filling postboxes!

Meanwhile, my wonderful subscribers - bless their cotton socks -- as soon as they got the mailshots, started ordering things, with the result that I did another 20 packets yesterday morning and by the time I was done, missed the bank.

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No Panic Here... HERE!

Good news: Gill McEvoy (author of our out-of-print  Uncertain Days and in-print Sampler) won first prize in the Havant Literary Festival Competition. Hurray!

Not only that -- there have been some brilliant autumn days this week and even this morning the sun is shining and the rowan outside my window is turning red. I'm one third of the way through the subscriber mailshot and desperately hoping the postal services will get the bits and pieces to people. All subscribers are getting a free sample PoemCard as well as flyers for the new publications: everyday festival (Rose Cooke), Salaams (Sally Festing, Shadow (Alison Brackenbury) and No Panic Here (Mark Halliday). This time they're a kind of suite of pamphlets, all with cream covers but different inside flyleafs. And some lovely cover designs. Mark Halliday's is a sort of man-meets-ketchup, self-inside-self portrait, which really fits the poems (you've got to read them).

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Autumn

It's been an autumn weekend of many postings. An generous friend sent me a little collection of stamps - such a kind thought. They went onto some of the 22 packets I posted today. I took eight to the post office yesterday - various shapes and sizes. Another five have to be done this evening.

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CONTRARY CRAITUR

So much to do! But how much worse to be bored!

Three pamphlets are now at the press: everyday festival must be about to come back, with the other two not far behind. Flyers are done for these three.

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Berries

Outside the window of my study where I'm writing this, the berries on the rowans are glowing orangy-red, even in the rain. Yesterday, I picked (and ate) a handful of blackberries (brambles in Scotland). Autumn is here.

When I was somewhere around twenty, I remember having a discussion with an artist friend, someone much older than me - he was in his early sixties then. We were talking about seasons and I spoke about Autumn, my favourite season, how I loved the colours and the feeling in the air. He said that when I was older I would come to prefer the Spring.

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No panic here

This was the last week before college bites -- back to that other grindstone. So I locked the front door, ignored the phone and worked flat out. As usual I didn't get as far as I thought I would. However, Rose Cook's everyday festival has gone to Robert and Liz at Dolphin Press, and so has Alison Brackenbury's Shadow ( a collection of animal poems).

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