Thursday, July 10, 2025

Rind, clink and treat.

1. Loving the green on green stripes of the watermelon rind.

2. As I go up the stairs, I can hear from his room the clinking of a spoon in a glass yoghurt jar.

3. I enjoy an evening of beer and silliness with the Gluten-free Trio -- just what I need to mark the delivery of a novel edit and the start of the heatwave.

Wednesday, July 09, 2025

Space, box of cherries and reading aloud.

 1. I have done my errands and there is still half an hour to go -- writing time.

2. He is returned to us with his camera bag and a box of glossy black cherries.

3. We sit in bed and I read to her from a book we've both been looking forward to.

Tuesday, July 08, 2025

Dull, after the rain and prepping.

1. I slap the full water butt to enjoy the dull thump.

2. My herbs have doubled in size in the rain, which seems to have nourished them in a way my watering never can.

3. There's a heatwave expected, so we make a supermarket order of hot weather treats to make it easier to bear.

Monday, July 07, 2025

Cleaner than before, line dancing and downpour.

1. This has been frustrating, but the windows are now at least cleaner than they were.

2. There is country and western music on the Pantiles. Three serious children in cowboy boots are line-dancing in front of the bandstand.

3. Watching the rain sheeting across the car park, and hearing it hissing off the roof into my water butt.

Friday, July 04, 2025

Artificial silk, phone call and aphelion.

1. To drift around in leggings and a very loose top made from polyester silk.

2. A quick catch-up on the phone adds some healthy texture to this day of frantic typing.

3. My alarm goes off reminding me about an astronomical happening: the sun is at aphelion. We can't observe it; it's after sunset, and anyway, distance from the sun is not perceptible by tiny folks like us standing on the planet's surface (we're interested in the celestial goings-on, but not interested enough to take measurements six months apart and spoil our eyes looking directly at the sun). But it's nice to know the moment, anyway.

Thursday, July 03, 2025

Magnolia, pagoda and station.



1. Late magnolias -- always a pleasure.

2. We like everything about the pagoda -- including the long climb to the top -- but particularly the green and gold dragons on the roofs and the automata models on the ground floor. We turn handles to bring models made from pieces of tin tea caddies to jerky tick-tock life, depicting the trip to Guangzhou that inspired the architect, and the building of the pagoda.

3. A parade of shops and cafes, shaded by London Planes, crowds around Kew Gardens Station, curious and a little deferential.


Wednesday, July 02, 2025

Book, volunteers and shower.

1. I spot that he's brought along the copy of Puck of Pook's Hill that I left in his room a month or so ago. 

2. Everywhere, there are ladies in yellow T-shirt emblazoned with 'Here to help'.

3. Late at night, as the air cools, the patter of rain -- just a few drops, but there's always the promise of more.

Rind, clink and treat.

1. Loving the green on green stripes of the watermelon rind. 2. As I go up the stairs, I can hear from his room the clinking of a spoon in a...