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.

Heather, portfolio and expand.

1. There are drifts of mauve heather blossom here and there on the common where the trees have been cleared to open up heathland. 2. I rathe...