Sunday, November 18, 2007

Race, touch of magic and sweetcorn.

1. Walking across the Grove, a tennis ball rolls over my toes. I almost trip over the black and white dog chasing it, and then the owner just misses running into me. We laugh about it -- how very English.

2. An oldish woman, perfectly coiffed and dressed, stands outside Hoopers. She is wearing startling glossy red lipstick. I imagine she must be a fairy godmother.

3. Gnawing sweetcorn off the cob.

End at the beginning, whistler and no pressure.

1. To start the day by finishing a book. 2. I'm sure we knew that the emergency kettle is a whistling one; but we'd forgotten since ...