Saturday, April 22, 2006

Poem boy, over the hill and time to spare.

1. When I arrived for my lift to work, Oli answered the door with a poetry book in his hand.

2. Standing at the two towers I look across the valley to the clump of pine trees that I can't quite get to in my hour's lunchbreak. It always seems like a Shangri La place.

3. I am scanning in my holiday photos. It's a dull task because it alternates periods of waiting with repetitive activity that calls for lots of concentration. In the waiting times I have been doing all the little tasks that I've left for too long: dusting, cleaning the bathroom, watering the plants, filing all the post that has piled up.