Thursday, September 30

a rectangle of october sun laid down on the chestnut-brown wood

Sunday, September 12

sun lights on the bay plant
one whole leaf glows white

Saturday, September 11

Friday, September 10

unceremoniously tipped onto the doormat: dying wasp

Thursday, September 9

tail-less stuffed mouse discarded next to the sleeping cat

Tuesday, September 7

lobster-coloured tiny spider scribbles across the tyre

Monday, September 6

waiting spiralled purple/white bud striped like a boiled sweet

Sunday, September 5

at the wedding

a huge glass bowl of chocolate moments: I scoop a handful, release them into my bag

Saturday, September 4

Friday, September 3

The older boy catches on. He points at the cup the smallest boy is drinking from. His mother takes him by the hand back over to the water fountain, asks him where he got his cup from. He points up to the clean ones perched on the top of the fountain. Far up above him. She looks at the dirty cups piled up in the bin next to them. She takes his cup from him, gets him a clean one.

Thursday, September 2


gossip and elderflower cordial in the coffee and chocolate shop

Wednesday, September 1

On route

A hut (eggs and bacon, toasted cheese sandwiches, burgers) next to the fishing ponds down a long bumpy track. We chat about our day. Two teas, a bench, peace. Later, the tea lady brings us the property pages from her paper, passes them over the fence.