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.

Eggshell, turkey oak and grateful.

1. Smacking a hardboiled egg to break the shell. 2. Pale green leaves on the huge oak tree at the corner of The Grove. 3. There is nothing q...