Sunday, March 14, 2010

Strootch, better and bouquets.

It's Mothering Sunday today -- hope all the mothers out there are feeling appreciated. We're off to see Nick's later; and I feel very thankful to mine for her help with moving yet more stuff into storage, and for cleaning up the kitchen window so Nick could paint it.

1. Two teenage girls, arm in arm, shuffle noisily through the shopping centre -- one is wearing sloppy sheep skin boots, and the other a pair of badly fitting ballet flats.

2. I come home from shopping and Nick gives me the thumbs up as I pass the window. "The viewer used the b-word!" My mind races: Boring? Blue? Bogus? Bollocks? "Big! She said it was big."

3. We sit in the window of a pub on the Pantiles and people of all ages and sizes pass -- some briskly, some dawdling with phones and pushchairs -- with bunches of flowers.

Eggshell, turkey oak and grateful.

1. Smacking a hardboiled egg to break the shell. 2. Pale green leaves on the huge oak tree at the corner of The Grove. 3. There is nothing q...