1. A squirrel sitting dab in the middle of the road, right on the white line.
2. Walking down one of the posher roads in Tunbridge Wells I discover what is probably best described as a murder house. I can't believe I never noticed it before. A 1960s car covered in green tree dust and bird shit decays on the overgrown drive. And there are tattered curtains at the windows - shreds of filthy brown lining in one, and in the other, rags of lace that twitched slightly as I passed. I shivered.
3. Apple juice.
As needed, forgotten cake and syrup.
1. I promised myself I wouldn't moan and grumble about it -- but I do. And as if by magic, a very kind friend produces the required blaz...
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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...
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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...
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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...