the train slides through the countryside, travelling north. the clouds are various and extraordinary.

they sit & drink tea & eat cake & talk about trivialities. nana tell me he is 'not well, not at all well'.

two getting-big-kittens on my lap & an old boy cat on my feet. laptop perched perilously on sofa-arm. back twisted. a symphony of purr.

lazy crescent moon reclines. the sharp ends would puncture balloons.

too much plum crumble

heavy rain has patterned the outside of the window with paint-dabs of white
through it is brick, a straight black gutter, red berries, a slice of sky

before Christmas, we walk out onto the lawn with the kittens. the air is cool. the garden is overgrown. the hills watch over us. the world is there.

Tsuki sits on the step & looks at the sky

space-age ibuprofen: tangerine ovoid jewel

We stand around the fire with candles and welcome the Solstice. We throw our oak twigs into the centre. We see what we don't want burnt. The wind takes the candles, one by one.

home-made mince pies with wiggly pastry taste 100x better than the best from packets

final draft

red pen. manuscript. comma in. comma out. comma in.

the swshhhh of Kaspa turning pages, the radio blare, kitten-feet on the stairs, my own tongue and teeth, tut tut tut tut tut wondering over these words

It is a choir service for adults. For the first twenty minutes a child screams - his discontent echoing around the Priory. I listen to the story about baby Jesus and try not to hate this child. The choir exudes golden sound. We hear the story from the Bible. I listen to the silence between the words. The baby yells. I try not to hate this child.

this evening a sky-full of curdled clouds are moving fast. earlier we walked on the white hills and winter sun shone thinly, choosing which patches to melt first. the cats curl at my feet. hot mint tea will lift me.

silver foil bird on the fir tree branch
sequinned wings, glistening breast
surveying all with one black beady eye

flit flit flit
>pause<
muscles melting
breath slowing
back to work

change of plans

the room too naked without a christmas tree

a furry mechanical hamster, white-belly-up on the wooden floor, discarded by two sets of feisty paws

Looking around the room, I wonder what is fresh. Look again. Look again.

warm circle of purr only minutes ago was a Tasmanian devil of crashing and galloping and milk-spilling

a day of missing trains and getting things wrong, reminder after reminder

a triangle of pale blue sky draped with twinkling lights

in traffic we talk about this and that and we're not moving slowly any more

morning conservatory. cold rushes in through the glass. a single penny in the middle of the grey tiled floor. outside, the bleached skeletons of petunias, and wind.

small circular table containing 1 grey stone Buddha, 1 white paper lamp, 1 sitting-up dozing-off kitten.

our tears soften the shells we all fabricate around ourselves

baby George is happy to be held by me, and gazes at his mother across the room. he offers me the gift of regurgitated milk on my right shoulder. he smiles & gurgles.

traffic in Hammersmith

inching past window after bright window of other people's lives

Roshi kitten collapses onto my lap, surrendered to love