Monday, November 28, 2011

Water vapour, control and roast dinner.

1. A shaft of long low winter sun hits the water vapour in the bathroom, showing how the air currents move and swirl. I stand in my towel fascinated, watching the illuminated specks dancing as I breathe.

2. Alec finally  makes himself understood -- he wasn't asking me to change the radio station, or dance with him. He wanted to the remote control.

3. Perfect crackling, and perfect roast parsnips.

End at the beginning, whistler and no pressure.

1. To start the day by finishing a book. 2. I'm sure we knew that the emergency kettle is a whistling one; but we'd forgotten since ...