Thursday, November 11, 2021

Wet grass, recall and arnica.

1. Ahead of me are my own footprints in the wet grass.

2. I am far away, deep in a morass of text when to the top of my play queue come Cerys Matthews' warm, intimate renditions of Welsh folk songs.

3. The lady in the chemist has slipped a sachet of arnica gel in with the support for Alec's sprained wrist.

Right paper, bin night and correspondence.

1. I have just the right paper -- tiny Japanese pages, not much larger than business cards, printed with wisteria in full bloom. 2. Bin nigh...