Saturday, September 13, 2008

Greeting, amble and apples.

1. A small girl and her parents stand opposite me at the crossing. She waves at me, smiles and sticks her tongue out.

2. On Friday afternoons, I am an unrepentant saunterer. I spit on the idea of a brisk pace for exercise and concentrate on the scenery instead.

3. Quite quickly, bramley apples fall to pieces in the saucepan and fluff up until they look like unspun wool.

Volunteers, eleven and bright crayons.

1. Volunteers growing out of the yellow clay on the edge of the building site: a castor oil plant with spiked green seed pods; and a couple ...