Monday, May 11, 2009

Desolation, aeronauts and home tasks.

1. We are shocked that the desolate, delapidated, tumble weed and dog shit Marine Parade of Folkestone was recommended in a tourist leaflet. We try to find decayed grandeur, but see only neglect and sadness. Then a path under a bridge tempts us into a garden of wandering paths, pine tree shade and sculptures.

2. "Scree-sree scree-sree," insist the swifts who are throwing themselves around the blue space above us.

3. To come home, add a few treasures to the window ledge and inspect the health and happiness of my plants.

Morning, errands and entertainment.

1. I murmur an acknowledging greeting to a passing bin man. He is a well brought-up African and replies with eye contact and a warm 'Goo...