Posts

Foolery, asparagus and small screens.

1. There is a lot of playful April foolery on social media. Some of the brands and organisations seem to be reaching towards a better world where otters trained in water rescue support the emergency services; while others are just looking for chaos (the Macquarie comma and Aldi's law arm, Legaldi).  2. Nick brings me a bag of asparagus, even though no one else likes it. I have some spears, cooked briefly to a bright clear green, with my lunch. 3. Sitting up in bed, tablet between us, to watch NASA's rocket launch. The BBC commentator says it's taller than the Elizabeth Tower that holds Big Ben. That's hard to hold that in mind as Integrity dwindles to a dot in the blue sky.

Exercise, full moon and against the cold.

1. Yes, this movement takes less effort than it did in December. I give up less often, and I'm intrigued by the harder versions. 2. The moon untangles itself from the clouds and presses its face to mine as I climb the hill. 3. As we step out of the door, I reflexively pull my coat around me against the cold -- but there's no need tonight. The air feels softer, and more joyful, carrying voices and the scents of flowering hedges.

Nervous, geranium and freezer gold.

1. The auto-till attendant is a nervous speaker -- but nonetheless helps me scan my reward card, which just won't work. She's a bit of a reward programme expert and gives me a useful tip-off. It's funny to see how when I relax to force myself into a more patient state, she relaxes too, and how when she's showing me on her own phone, she achieves fluency.  2. To pot up fresh new geranium plants for the front windowsill. 3. We're pulling treasures out of the freezer this week -- a bag of frozen mango to eat with our yoghurt.

Early breakfast, leaving before the rain and candles.

1. We are all a bit resentful about the clocks changing -- but I happen to know that there are a couple of pain au chocolats in the freezer to sweeten the early breakfast deal. 2. Last skiing of the season. We get away just before the cold rain and walk out past banks tumbled with primroses and early bluebells. 3. Jabbing candles through the sugary crust of a lemon drizzle cake.

Spiller, bluebells and elastic.

1. There is a garden on Mount Ephraim where grape hyacinth bulbs have spilled over the wall and forced themselves into gaps in the pavement cobbles. 2. There on the edge of the path, looking breathless, squashed and dusty, some early bluebells. 3. There is satisfaction, I suppose, in threading elastic through a waistband, pulling the rucked cloth flat along the length.

Drifts, showers and recognised.

1. He is sitting more or less content among drifts of cheap packaging from China. 2. It's a black sky and gold light afternoon. 3. She wants a refill for this one particular pen from a shop that is only in London. This feels like familiar behaviour.

Daws, sign-off and watering.

1. Jackdaws, quick and smart as croupiers, flicker themselves in and out of a playing card sized hole in a sealed chimney. 2. I do consider a cheeky sign-off (almost certainly no one is reading or reviewing) but I haven't yet been paid, and I'm not entirely sure of the comms plan. So I deny myself and bask in the peace of mind. 3. Just yesterday I was thinking that after the run of dry weather I'd need to start watering the garden. Now stormy rain has set in for a few hours.