The shadow of white feathers

Middle of the night idea: radical decency. A radical refusal to be baited or pushed into polarised opinions by wannabe despots or bot farms or amoral tech bros.   

Up before Mum. A chat with my lovely wife, who I am missing lots. A chat with Ben who found a parcel in Mum's green bin. Wynford popped in too.  

For poor Mum another exhausting night of coughing and getting up for the toilet. She needed another sleep after breakfast, while I filed the pile of papers on the dining room table. However this afternoon Mum slept less and seemed brighter, and a bit more like her usual self making me feel very cautiously optimistic. Otherwise I've managed basics like making her drink and eat more.  

Later I walked through Stonegrove Park and the puddle, which has receded yesterday was back. Weirdly there was an egret in it. I have never seen an egret in London before, perhaps the chief suspect in the missing goldfish mystery is shadowing me. 

Sore throaty and sorry for myself walking into Edgware. I needed to collect the prescription I was given only half of last night. In Edgware I spoke to Lorraine so I could catastrophise. Having no imagination I went to Sainsbury's, bought provisions and, as instructed, 'fox food'. A cafe coffee surprisingly brightened me up.  Bought pill boxes with days of the week on them for Mum. I know she's had these before but the fairies have had them.

No writing or thoughts of writing. Adele texted me to see if I was going to drawing class. No drawing either.

Tobs called again in his lunchtime, having texted me a picture of Niles and Frazier Crane. 

The former Prince Andrew arrested today. To the guillotine!  

MASH in the evening. Mum snuck out to supply her vulpine friends.

To bed fairly early. Missing Lorraine.

The Live Canon poetry mystery continues. The winners to the competition I'm shortlisted for were supposed to be announced on the 26th January, it is now the 19th February and there has been no update anywhere. This doesn't bode well, and I'm just writing it off until events prove different.

Below two snaps of an Egret in Edgware, no fish in that pond sadly. Egrets are essentially white herons, and the way they walk always makes me think of Dylan Thomas's phrase 'the heron priested shore'. The third one is just a snap of the puddle. iPhone not much cop for wildlife photography.