Sunday, March 30
Pub Quiz
'Who wrote the Pink Panther theme' is the only one I get. On the way out I smash a glass and everybody cheers.
Friday, March 28
Thursday, March 27
Wednesday, March 26
Ranunculus on the window-sill
The flowers Esther bought me still look freshly cut two weeks after she left. Their pale frilled petals are rimmed with clotted blood.
Tuesday, March 25
The false economy of a cheap seed mix
The blue tits dealt with the cheap seed mix by jabbing up seed after seed, turning their heads, and spitting them out onto the ground before finding something worth eating. Instead I pour in pure sunflower seeds. Their papery husks are the same black and white as the stripes at the tips of this great tit's wing-feathers. He visits the feeder over and over, retreating into the safety of the hedge-insides to hold each seed in his feet and peck the goodness out.
Monday, March 24
Sunday, March 23
Friday, March 21
Thursday, March 20
Beale Park, low season
I squat for ten minutes and regard the capybara.
The capybara's big old eyes regard me.
The capybara's big old eyes regard me.
Wednesday, March 19
Sunday, March 16
sitting meditation for the first time in several weeks
my body shudders rhythmically as uptight-ness dissolves into my breath
Friday, March 14
on the underground walkway wall
under a cartoon of a cock and balls, three scrawled words: 'ur mums dik'
Wednesday, March 12
Jam
An hour and a half to travel less than a mile. The man on the tangled roundabout screams at the man in the jeep who pushes in. He uses all his breath and throws the words like spears. The car holds them. He leans his face into his hands.
Tuesday, March 11
five people around a pub table
she doesn't make eye contact. he hides behind his newspaper. she hides behind her smile. he drifts in and out. she tries to put them all together and make a whole.
Sunday, March 9
Car boot sale
She stops me to explain how her stall works - every ticket I buy would get me a prize. Her car behind her is filled to the brim with stuff. I imagine she lives alone, maybe with a cat. She wants me to be impressed. Before she's even started to speak I am looking at her with pity.
Saturday, March 8
squirrel on the bird table
the squirrel hunkers down, shielded from the rain, and enjoys his easy breakfast
Friday, March 7
Thursday, March 6
Wednesday, March 5
words spoken out loud to myself after struggling for ten minutes to put a king size duck down duvet back into its cover
-you're a big duvet, aren't you?
-yes I am. I'm a big duvet.
-yes I am. I'm a big duvet.
Tuesday, March 4
Monday, March 3
Sunday, March 2
Saturday, March 1
city park
a man is reading out his russian paper to himself, so he can hear his native language and feel at home. a photographer is told to get off the grass. the hellebores wait for their heads to be lifted and admired.
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