‘Any chance we could have a look at it back at the station? See if there’s anything in it that can help us track down Mr Salt? Or at the very least it may help us understand what goes on in the creative mind, so we can put ourselves in the poetic shoes of Mr Salt, as it were?’

‘Well, no, actu—’

‘Wonderful! Thank you very much. Tell you what, you’ve only got a few pages left in it so why not keep it for a few more days and we’ll pop by and collect it next week? In the meantime, Sergeant Tuck can see about picking you up a new notebook. We wouldn’t want your writing to suffer while we take this one into custody!’ he said, amused at his own joke.

After they left, I sat back down, closed my eyes, and silently cursed the day – 1st January – I’d started to write this stupid thing.

Thursday October 4th

Last year I spent National Poetry Day wrestling with a pivot table. This year, I am waiting for the dishwasher to be fixed. This is the humdrum, unglamorous side of poetry that is often hidden from ordinary members of the public. Many people have the notion that writing poetry is all about striding across meadows, notebook in hand, or quietly observing the world from coffee-shop windows. It is indeed mainly these things but with unfathomable pivot tables and blocked dishwasher pumps thrown in.

The repair man didn’t turn up until 4pm. All that waiting around in the house for his arrival meant that I couldn’t pay a visit to the shed today. But after yesterday, that was something of a relief.

I note that Toby Salt had been due to give a talk about the nature of poetry today at the Royal Festival Hall in front of four hundred people. Only he won’t be doing that now on account of him being dead.

Probably.

Friday October 5th

crimeweave

upon retiring

from the mafia,

Don Corleone

wove aquatic mammals

out of raffia

i learnt this news

when he made me an otter

i couldn’t refuse

I was shuffling around in my dressing gown when there was a knock on the window. It was the Man at Number 29. He gestured towards the top of the street with his thumb. There was the bin lorry and I’d forgotten to put my bags out. Five frantic minutes later, I collapsed back inside following a successful carpet-slippered pursuit of the lorry. How the mighty have fallen!

After that, I couldn’t settle to much. In the end, I accepted my fate and curled up on the sofa with the cat, watching films all day – Godfather I and II, The Wicker Man and Ring of Bright Water – drifting in and out of sleep and yet more unsettling dreams.

Saturday October 6th