Friday, June 04, 2010

Bees, in the sun and compost bin.

1. Bees bob against the window. Bok. Bok. Bok.

2. At lunchtime, to stretch out my legs in the sun and read for a while.

3. On a hot day, a week before it will be emptied, the compost bin smells of conifer branches.

Follow Her, no birds and Burns Night.

1. I am intrigued by an article in The Guardian  about psychic phone lines, and then by the author's upcoming thriller about a toxic lif...