Thursday, July 16, 2009

Doormen, scent of cucumber and birthday books.

1. A door opens on to the street. One boy stands guard just outside, the other lies across the threshold using his greying toy lamb as a pillow.

2. I brush past a tea towel hanging on the line. It smells fresh and bright because Nick has used it to squeeze the juice from grated cucumber.

3. Nick has an evening of baseball lined up. I retire to the bedroom to enjoy my large pile of birthday books.