Voices in the trees

The best thing about having a migraine is that when it begins to wear off, the simple absence of pain is wonderful. Started the day gingerly, and then as my head repaired, gloated Sméagol-like over my MacBook Air loading selected tunes, selections of my deathless poetry, prose and other projects onto it.

Also a long chat with Mum on the phone, discussing the virtues of a MacBook Air, and hearing a little more about her trip to Prague to see Jana, who couldn't have been more hospitable.

A walk in the park this afternoon. The sun low, and lots of people about in all the autumn colours striped with long shadows. I was listening to Allegri's Miserere mei, as I mooched, the unaccompanied voices seeming to float beautifically among the trees, as my thoughts repeatedly turned towards Guernsey.

Guy Fawkes night, so the air was full of explosions and the cringes of cats. Lorraine stepping in from the cold   after a long day. Fairly early to bed, and huge rumbles of distant thunderous fireworks. Made me wonder if this is what being at war sounded like.

Today is the birthday of that old sparkler Richard, and I look forward to a few cheekies with him this week.