Mock turtle
Woke up feeling somewhat better today. Down to the patisserie this morning to buy bread. Everyone in the shop clustered around a tiny puppy. These small animals make everyone lose grip of reality, especially me. Was pleased to see they all washed their hands before serving me my chewy brown bread afterwards though. Then Lorraine and I had a slow breakfast of kippers and toast, and read the papers. Calliope, despite pushing her face at the plates, spurned kipper scraps afterwards.
Then as Lorraine went off to shop with Beth, I tidied up my front scrap of garden with the kitten charging about excitably with bits in her mouth, (see previous entry) and drawing coos of admiration from occasional passers-by. Kittens, like babies and puppies, are good icebreakers and should have been on the Titanic.
My roses are still budding and flowering. As I pottered about I felt a deep welling up of joy not to be working on web pages however.
Then off to the Library to join Lorraine for a wander through town passing a lugubrious jazz band in the Pavilion Gardens, before ending up in the Mock Turtle for afternoon tea and a scone. I love that place. It is the epitome of Englishness though it was owned I think by an Italian family, and now by an Oriental one. Bought some tickets to see the wonderful Alice Russell later in the month.
Walking back by the sea towards sundown, watched the river of gulls drifting westwards above the coastline as far as the eye could see. I've noticed this on many occasions, but where are they going? It's as if they are flying towards the dying sun. Today the startlings were out in numbers again too, preparing to settle under the piers.
A restrained evening watching the David Lynch film Wild at Heart. I'd seen it before, not my favourite Lynch film but has all his hallmarks, many of his usual cast favourites, and some great moments.
Below gulls making their way westwards, the edge of a great murmuration of starlings above them.
Woke up feeling somewhat better today. Down to the patisserie this morning to buy bread. Everyone in the shop clustered around a tiny puppy. These small animals make everyone lose grip of reality, especially me. Was pleased to see they all washed their hands before serving me my chewy brown bread afterwards though. Then Lorraine and I had a slow breakfast of kippers and toast, and read the papers. Calliope, despite pushing her face at the plates, spurned kipper scraps afterwards.
Then as Lorraine went off to shop with Beth, I tidied up my front scrap of garden with the kitten charging about excitably with bits in her mouth, (see previous entry) and drawing coos of admiration from occasional passers-by. Kittens, like babies and puppies, are good icebreakers and should have been on the Titanic.
My roses are still budding and flowering. As I pottered about I felt a deep welling up of joy not to be working on web pages however.
Then off to the Library to join Lorraine for a wander through town passing a lugubrious jazz band in the Pavilion Gardens, before ending up in the Mock Turtle for afternoon tea and a scone. I love that place. It is the epitome of Englishness though it was owned I think by an Italian family, and now by an Oriental one. Bought some tickets to see the wonderful Alice Russell later in the month.
Walking back by the sea towards sundown, watched the river of gulls drifting westwards above the coastline as far as the eye could see. I've noticed this on many occasions, but where are they going? It's as if they are flying towards the dying sun. Today the startlings were out in numbers again too, preparing to settle under the piers.
A restrained evening watching the David Lynch film Wild at Heart. I'd seen it before, not my favourite Lynch film but has all his hallmarks, many of his usual cast favourites, and some great moments.
Below gulls making their way westwards, the edge of a great murmuration of starlings above them.
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