Fresh grey day

 In the afternoon, Lorraine off to buy bras and trousers with Beth. I chose to mooch up over Hollingbury Hill again. A cool wind blowing and halfway through had to break out my wet top for warmth. I simply walked today, without listening to anything, and this was great as I fell into a bit of a meditative state  mooching along, and was a little more attentive to what was going on around me. Loved hearing the wind in the trees, and delighted in a falcon flying out of the trees in front of me, and stationing itself over the newly mown field east of the golf course.  

Home to coffee and a read of poems by Katerina Angelaki-Rooke, a Greek poet who my late friend Tim Gallagher admired immensely who died earlier this year. Wonderful work in her selected poems translated into English: The Scattered Papers of Penelope. 20th century Greek poetry is so good, even in translation.

Lorraine home, with new bras and trousers in a bag. We spent some of the afternoon in the kitchen, helping her make banana bread, and cooking a roast chicken, with lots of veggies. It is the law that a chicken is roasted in Kenny towers on a Sunday.

Spoke to Mum this afternoon, they had been in the Waggon and Horses, but the food was grim again. A shame because it is a good place and they take great care of Mum and Mas, and all the social distancing is great. 

From my mooch about: one of the signs that always makes me snicker; a view out to a steely sea with part of the fort wall; the helianthus and sedum in the garden again. I love that combination of colours.






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