Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Roses, jungle and pile of stones.

1. The washing-up liquid at work smells (to me, anyway) faintly and pleasingly of roses -- it's Cusson's Morning Fresh.

2. Walking down a path almost lost in chest-high bracken. I imagined what it would be like to be too small to see over the top, to only have a view of stalks and underbrush.

3. Finding a mysterious cairn at the side of the path.

Follow Her, no birds and Burns Night.

1. I am intrigued by an article in The Guardian  about psychic phone lines, and then by the author's upcoming thriller about a toxic lif...