Paris, Thursday 18 January

Snow overnight. It must be cold outside, but the sun is casting angular shadows across the zinc roof of the church opposite.

Soon I must send the ‘final’ manuscript of Apples Thieves off to the publisher, Carcanet. Then the in-press details, copy editing, jacket design (a tough one and not entirely my decision), publication on 29 August (so precise already!). MostIy I am tweaking poems, but one, about a sewing machine, I made big changes to this week, more of a problem, since now I am too close to the poem to see what needs to be improved. Need to step back, step away but hard when the deadline looms!

Working on the bed, looking out at the snow. The kite (in lieu of curtains) is chilly.