Friday, December 27, 2013

Not forgotten, food parcel and nightlight.

1. I whisk a fretful Bettany away from lunch. My mother brings a bowl of pudding up to us in bed.

2. We bring a food parcel home with us -- it's a relief not to have to think much about meals for the next few days.

3. Alec's new nightlight glowing on the bookshelf.

Tarry, rolling back and one last taste.

1. Much that I would like to sit and visit for longer packed in with red and crimson cushions and blankets, lit by a bright window and drink...