Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Roses, jungle and pile of stones.

1. The washing-up liquid at work smells (to me, anyway) faintly and pleasingly of roses -- it's Cusson's Morning Fresh.

2. Walking down a path almost lost in chest-high bracken. I imagined what it would be like to be too small to see over the top, to only have a view of stalks and underbrush.

3. Finding a mysterious cairn at the side of the path.

Cistern, club and go.

1. We've got water of some kind -- the sound of the loo cistern filling is pretty good to hear this morning. 2. Susan has invited to us ...