Wednesday, September 30

outside: spent leaves. patient hedge. washed out sky.
inside: tight shoulder muscles. thirst. fluttery heart.

Tuesday, September 29

Monday, September 28

oh cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel oh.... I love your cinnamon wafting scent and your salty dripping butter... oh cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel, cinnamon bagel oh... (repeat)

Sunday, September 27

In between scrambled eggs, Sunday papers and a pot of coffee, I probe her psyche with my sharp questions.

Saturday, September 26

Dead Mouse

Each single filament of fur has let go overnight: he's covered in a downy pile which trembles in the wind.

Friday, September 25

the gift of an entire day of being alone - a diary page, a big empty white plate

Wednesday, September 23

Tuesday, September 22

I close my eyes and the orange sun is still there

Monday, September 21

The workman spits: a long glob flies. The sky is striped with pink and aubergine.

Sunday, September 20


one of them was on anti-depressants six years later. one of them couldn't live on her own any more and took turns staying with her daughters. one of them went straight back to work.

Saturday, September 19

Friday, September 18

Thursday, September 17

Wednesday, September 16

robin drifts from the hedge disguised as a leaf.

Tuesday, September 15

Dull day. Curled beige leaves appear in the lee of the hedge. The cats curl up on the sofa, refuse to budge.

Monday, September 14


After fifty minutes we find the word that sums it all up.

Sunday, September 13

Saturday, September 12

A squirrel moves across the lawn like seaweed in a current.

Friday, September 11

Thursday, September 10

sweet cherry tomato explosions

red jewels plucked from their beds and popped one by one in my mouth

Tuesday, September 8

Growing roadkill

Every day this badger's belly balloons a little bit bigger

Monday, September 7

Sunday, September 6

Sunday love-nch

Roast potatoes, with olives and love. Roast garlic. Celeriac mashed with love and double cream. Green beans chopped into love-sized pieces, dripping with butter. Love gravy. Love.

Saturday, September 5


He is telling us his story. We laugh after every sentence. He is hilarious. He says the next thing, and brings the convention to tears.

Friday, September 4

Fatty sits between me and the screen: he has a good point.

Wednesday, September 2

Fatty stretches out and leans against the back of my zafu for twenty minutes of cat-meditation (also known as a nap)