Friday, August 08, 2008

Fruit, flock and figs.

1. A red-gold Victoria plum. The skin is the colour of a faded bruise, and the flesh reminds me of teatime sunlight.

2. Passing a church we catch the moment when shining butterflies of confetti hang in the air.

3. Cutting up a fat ball of mozzarella and eating it with warm figs.

Novel, coming back and ready for December.

1. In the early hours, I'm awake, all alone -- but I've got a new novel on my library app: a fenland gothic Saxon mystery called Mer...