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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Going away, sweet peas and calls.

1. Waving off the last of our sleepover guests. Now we are free to be tired and grumpy. 2. A bunch of sweet peas -- bright stained glass col...

  • 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...
  • Chimney sweep, recovery and nurses.
    1. The cottage across the carpark is covered in scaffolding. Now that the roofers have gone home, the family has climbed up to see the view ...