Saturday, November 26, 2011

3BT

1. From the passing bus I watch a young woman standing at a crossing.  She's dressed in black.  Black shiny shoes, black shiny tights, black dress, black raincoat, black sunglasses, black ribbon.  Silent.  Expressionless.  Her hands are thrust deep in her coat pockets.  She's trying to hoist her knicker elastic back up around her waist.  The front of her skirt and her coat twitch slowly up beyond the modesty line.  Then she stops fidgeting and shakes her whole body to regain her composure.


The Loved One and I re-enter the flat after our short holiday, and realize before we even switch on the light that the air is full of the powerful sweetness of the newly flowering hyacinth.


On Gelligaer Common, I drive slowly across the moorland towards a bunch of galloping ponies and stop for them to cross the road.  One, the smallest and hindmost, veers off and turns back.  We move for a minute or so in parallel, he is only ten yards from the car.  On the other side of the car, besides a high ridge, the same distance from me and less than ten feet above the ground, a red kite hovers, wings and forked tail working and twisting as she fights to maintain her position in the wind.

aunt mavis trying on her mother's glasses

all things must pass ... some with flying colours ... the mourners gave a thunderously rousing three cheers for tina before they hit the bar


the usual suspects ... barcelona, again











Monday, November 7, 2011

romance open brackets love close brackets divorce marriage

some mildly discordant domestic discourse which failed to ruin our weekend ...





















He: "Do you know ?  I think you've never, ever, polished my shoes for me !"

She: "You might like to get on the internet this evening and start researching ... like ... where your nearest soup kitchen will be."