Tuesday, July 29, 2025

Dachshund, return and late supper.

1. A soft jingle of bells. I cross paths with an older woman walking a wiry dachshund with milky eyes, chatting and encouraging as she goes. 

2. The children come tumbling in with bags and a rucksack and a suitcase and fruit and flowers. The weekend's heavy peace is gone, but Grandpa assures me from the doorway that they've said thank you nicely, and that they've been well behaved. 

3. He slept right through supper, but now we've settled into the evening with nail polish and a comedy on the radio, we can smell the curry that he is heating for himself down in the kitchen.

Conference morning, break time and memory.

1. Waking up in a huge snow-crisp hotel bed, rather keyed up, but ready for a day in the company of other editors. 2. I take a moment to sit...