(On last week’s run and being an idiot) Mood: Could be better. Conditions: Mild. Daffodil pond in the park. Hawthorn buzzing with bees. Dogs and Nits: Every other person has a dog. Including a man who can’t stop scratching his head while his pup-in-training waits. I think, Who’s training whom? and Nits? Workmen: Five. Doing … More Probably Just a Phase
Happy New Year.
My two oldest boys are home for Christmas, and the six of us are together as a unit again. It’s been a while since we last did this, and I’m wondering how we’ll get on. Initial joy at their homecoming has waned, if I’m honest. It’s the constant ferreting in the fridge for food, the … More Just lovely
A few weeks ago, I was walking along the road in daggy day-at-home clothes, music blazing in my ears, thinking that I should have brushed my hair. I’d just be quick before anyone saw me. But someone did see me. Someone I didn’t recognise. A bald man with a liver-brown beard and quite a cute … More Footnotes
A day in my home town with my friend from my old town. Walking and talking through the streets of Cambridge. Over its bridges and down its back lanes. A nose in The Eagle, a pause to taste fudge, a pit stop at the Old Bicycle Shop to drink tea and coffee. A spell in … More Punters and cows
There’s a mother and son I’ve not seen in a while. They’re regulars in the local park, like me. Except that they walk their dogs while I walk by myself. I’m not too fond of their dogs. They’re small and yappy, and the mother and her adult son don’t call them away when they pester … More A mother and her son
I looked out of the window at Saturday morning. It was cloudy, but not raining. I opened the front door to feel the air. It was cold, but not freezing. The day was growing light, a busy week was behind me and the next hour would be my own. As I crept out of the … More Saturday morning secret
I had all of Saturday to travel from Swansea in the West to Cambridge in the East, so I decided to stop mid-way. A refuge from the fast lane which promised to peel back the centuries. All the way to the sacred oaks of Awsty Wood, the marching feet of Roman legionnaires, and the group … More A Sanctuary
Have Paprika, Will Travel 