Saturday, August 29, 2009

We love the milkman, squall and felafel

1. Oh milkman, we wake up to find that in the small hours, you placed on our doorstep a pot of yoghurt and some milk for breakfast.

2. As we are climbing over a stile, a squall blows up the valley. The sky darkens, the wind gets up, and the cold rain blows in our faces. We are so surprised that we stand there like idiots for a moment, before taking cover in the lea of an oak.

3. Flattening a felafel and jamming it into a hot pitta.

Mist, no charge and well met.

1. Mist the colour of skimmed milk fills the Spa valley, drains and then fills it again. Here, the sky is clear blue all the way to the top....