Another frenetic week has whizzed by. I had been thinking of applying for a commission as a poet for a public art project in Durham. In the end, I decided I could not do it unless I went back on some of my commitments locally, and being seen as reliable and consistent to people here became more important. I am disappointed. I wonder whether I should have gone for it in any case, to see if I could have got it, but then even the thought of driving over for the interview made me want to weep. Do things happen for a reason? Is the fish that got away always the unpalatable one? Or should I have pushed myself?

On a brighter note, I have tried The Peasholm Magic Lantern on site now, and it looks good. What a relief that I don't have to do any more tweaking and have something I can be proud of, even if not everyone is going to appreciate it, I am sure.

Then looking up into the night sky:

Moon, taut silver sail,
guided by the tended flame
Venus holds for all.