Four kinds of English grey
Challenged by this morning. In the night I had turned over in bed, and a minor tweak in my back suddenly became a sudden yikes!-inducing pain. Drifted back into sleep until Calliope thoughtfully rubbed her face into my open and drooling mouth at 6.00am. Up snuffling, and loping like an orc off to London to get fangs sorted.
Off to Strand on the Green where, being early, I took the photos in the entry below. Then late into the agency. Curiously, nothing much to do once I was there. Had a fruit smoothie with Betsy at lunch, and sat about with my head full of Paul Klee images, longing to be released back into the wild. Doodled Paul Klee style pictures while attending an interminable meeting this afternoon, listening to a teleconference of clients giving their opinions about creative work.
Home to a clingy cat who is balking at food in protest at my absence, and cold chicken sandwiches for me. And then a nice chat with Lorraine... Then bed... Bed calls me with its siren voice.
Below some shots of the Winter river on a mild morning: under the railway bridge, Kew Bridge, A detail of Oliver's Island, and a coffin like outlet into the Thames.
Challenged by this morning. In the night I had turned over in bed, and a minor tweak in my back suddenly became a sudden yikes!-inducing pain. Drifted back into sleep until Calliope thoughtfully rubbed her face into my open and drooling mouth at 6.00am. Up snuffling, and loping like an orc off to London to get fangs sorted.
Off to Strand on the Green where, being early, I took the photos in the entry below. Then late into the agency. Curiously, nothing much to do once I was there. Had a fruit smoothie with Betsy at lunch, and sat about with my head full of Paul Klee images, longing to be released back into the wild. Doodled Paul Klee style pictures while attending an interminable meeting this afternoon, listening to a teleconference of clients giving their opinions about creative work.
Home to a clingy cat who is balking at food in protest at my absence, and cold chicken sandwiches for me. And then a nice chat with Lorraine... Then bed... Bed calls me with its siren voice.
Below some shots of the Winter river on a mild morning: under the railway bridge, Kew Bridge, A detail of Oliver's Island, and a coffin like outlet into the Thames.
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