Friday, July 09, 2004

Privet, pips and butter.

1. Being puzzled because the hayfevery, sickly, loo-cleanerish smell of privet flowers makes me feel vaguely happy, then remembering the reason why.

2. The BBC pips.

3. The taste of butter when you haven't had it for ages and ages.
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Slow worm, peacock butterfly and striations.

1. A slow worm backs into his burrow, his mild resentful gaze holding ours. 2. Peacock butterfly -- Persian rug colours -- rests open in the...

  • Bee, green beans and movie night.
    1. An enormous fat bumble bee at work. She is so bulky that she can knock dead blossoms out of the way as she gets right in to the new jasmi...
  • Midsummer, feeding and cakes.
    1. The shortest night and the longest day. I was up at Wellington Rocks with Anna, Paul and Jason. We couldn't see the sun through the m...
  • Words, shivers and fungus.
    1. Oli has written a poem describing how Tunbridge Wells makes him veer between wanting to fall in love and wanting to shoot people. Which i...