Fortean Times is out. Issue 208, has a picture of Bigfoot or something on the cover. I'm on page 57. The photo of me was meant to be funny, but actually makes me look like a complete ponce.

They've dicked around with the story a bit, I suspect to fill it out so it'd fill a page. Not sure about this as I put quite a lot of effort into being as concise and clear as possible. Also, they put the word "splendid" in there. I would never and will never use that word.

Doesn't matter though really. I had a short story published a few years back and the same thing happened, I suppose it's something you just have to get used to.

[update 7/3/6 12.50pm] At yicky yacky's suggestion I have uploaded the article as a rich text file here. This is the article as it was before it was edited by the FT.

Other stuff

Went to Kew Gardens with a couple of old friends down from Halifax at the weekend. In the past we've taken a bit of MDMA to "enhance" the experience but didn't bother this time. Had a great day all the same. Nice to see a lot of stuff just on the verge of flowering as I'm going back in a month's time with my mum. I've thought of becoming a member, but I don't think I'd get my money's worth at 60 quid.

Books

Been reading some poetry, not because I'm really into it or anything but because I felt like I should. I've slagged it off a lot in the past and you can't really slag something if you've never read any.

Picked up The Metaphysical Poets in a second-hand book shop. I bought it because of its name and because it had a picture of someone dying on the cover (older edition), then opened it and read the introduction, which basically said in a roundabout way that these are the hardest poems ever written ever. And they are, I don't understand a word.

Funny that in the olden days people used to be able to be really good at two things - in this case Sir Walter Ralegh, who wrote metaphysical poems and did whatever else it was he was famous for. You just don't get that nowadays. I can't see Steve Jobs or Peter Andre writing poetry. I suppose there's Eric Cantona, though I can't imagine his poetry being critically acclaimed in three hundred years time.

Ordered The Earliest English Poems from Amazon. This is more like it. It has what is my favourite poem (after reading a grand total of about six) "The Ruin", about walking through the ruined city of Bath after it was abandoned by the Romans and vandalised by the Wierds, whatever they are. It also has extracts from Beowulf, which is about killing monsters so beats most poetry on subject matter alone.

My dad sent me a little 50p pamphlet of John Clare poetry after I told I'd been reading Edge of the Orison. These are pretty good as well. They're all about the countryside, and generally start with misty fields and chirping birds, ending with the horrendous deaths of some kind of vermin. There's a good one where a fox gets ripped apart by dogs, and another where an olden days pest control bloke strings up dead moles on a tree. Cool.

In conclusion, poetry is actually OK, and it's short so you can read it on the toilet. A+, will read some again.