Friday, August 31

Thursday, August 30

Wednesday, August 29

Tuesday, August 28

today I feel kindly towards slugs and move them gently aside as I delve into the earth with a fork and pile the weeds into the pink wheelbarrow

Monday, August 27

the RAC man who changes our tyre and the lady at the checkout in Morrisons both grumble about the weather. I want to say that I like the rain. I don't.

Sunday, August 26

Saturday, August 25

sunk into the dark crumbly earth: fritillaries, three flavours of crocus, tulips, irises, muscari & one giant allium

Friday, August 24

rain

rain glorious rain glorious rain-sound pit-pat-pattering dots of shifting light

Wednesday, August 22

ponderous pigeon dips & nibbles at the spilled peanuts under the feeder

Tuesday, August 21

As we talk, Freddie emerges from the living room (where there are cartoons) to water the grass three times. A giant slug pulls itself from the sweet cavern in a fallen apple. The trains punctuate our conversation. Life is the slug. Life is the apple.

Monday, August 20


rusted iron robin with a splash of gold at his chest sits in the erisimum as the purple flowers go on and on and on....

Sunday, August 19

In the playhouse

This is Fiona's doughnut. That is Ramona's doughnut. This is Fiona's doughnut. That is Ramona's doughnut. They are just plastic, but we are still saying something important.

Saturday, August 18

Internet dating

Their first meeting, at Waterloo. She says 'this is the awkward bit' as they greet each other, awkwardly. They walk off together into the rest of their lives.

Friday, August 17

Thursday, August 16

BBQ, chilly evening

Thomas the cat is trying to eat Anna's halloumi from her plate on the ground. I shout but he doesn't even put an ear back. The veggie sausages are ready. A glass of red wine is spilt. We melt marshmallows into sweet pink goo. The hills stretch out below us. The light drains away.

Wednesday, August 15

the day arranges itself around our evening Buddhist service
the heart

Tuesday, August 14

I try to listen to my clients and live my life from within the forcefield of a rotten cold

Monday, August 13

green swords of monbretia stalks sprinkled with fragments of flame

Sunday, August 12

rising from torpor to dig up the lavender from the front and carry it round to the back, when I'm finished the sap is rising in me again

Saturday, August 11

skate park

we sit and watch as groups of boys - 6, 13, 15 - and a serious stout girl with pigtails - swoosh up and down the ramps on their bikes, scooters and skate-boards. a small boy falls badly. two older ones are there, picking him up, rearranging his bike, asking him if he's ok. he gets back on.

Friday, August 10

wood pigeon crooning, globules of dew shining on the grass. sun sprinkled over everything.

Thursday, August 9

One year old Livy shows me the soles of her feet above the rim of the table. I show her mine. We agree that this is the most amusing thing I have done all day.

Wednesday, August 8

new apple tree

the apples are getting big, but they all give under the pressure of my fingers. i am already disappointed.

Tuesday, August 7

clump of monbretia takes on fire with its tangerine & deep oranges and wins

Sunday, August 5

the washing beckons to me from the line, asking me to close my laptop up

Saturday, August 4

Ramona at eighteen months

She wanders away from her parents. I follow her outside. Together we chase after a blackbird. She blows kisses at it. The blackbird flies a little way off, we follow. A little way off. We follow. Suddenly she looks around and there is a big field of grass between her and her mummy. Until they are back in sight I can't stop her tears.

Friday, August 3

hanging basket

this universe of dark lobelia, bright petunia, pale geraniums, overseen by this dot on his web of silk

Thursday, August 2

a mini-boy and girl with a mini-bright-umbrella apiece, both blond, the boy in red, the girl in purple. the boy swipes his at his sister as many times as he dares. they run up and down the pavement with their circles-on-sticks. it isn't raining any more.

Wednesday, August 1

My ninety year old nana after a bad day of travelling

She says Newport train station is the most awful thing she's ever seen. She said she'd blow the whole thing up if she could.