Sometimes April doesn’t keep its promise. It reneges. Burrows back down a hole, pretending it never was. It had been that way this week, when many of us had to check the calendar, only to utter, ‘Really? April 4th? Are we sure about that?’ Character building weather, one might call it, unless one is feeling delicate, … Continue reading April Showers
We walked through hail on the Cheviots, those rolling hills that straddle the border between England and Scotland. I was on the southern side, in Northumberland, when big, fat balls of hail began to prick my cheeks like tiny needles. Starting out, it was sunny and cold with no sign of hail as we trudged … Continue reading Cheviots
Setting off backwards, with a view to the west from my seat on the train, the sun is so bright that it hurts my eyes. A storm is forecast, it should be here by now. The weather is running late. Rabbits are frozen like ornaments in a scrap of scrubby field alongside a stream. The stream … Continue reading Journey
Nine balls I found; lurking under hedges, behind the shed, deep under the straggly hydrangea, wedged by the oil tank, away up in the corner where the first of the rhubarb is waking. They hadn’t been breeding, I know this because they are all of a different species: a medicine ball – the oversized one … Continue reading Balls
I’ve never been a dog person. I think it depends on whether on not you had one growing up, and I didn't. I’m very enthusiastic about the idea of a dog, much like the idea of trip to Antarctica, which sounds wonderful in theory, but I’d never go. Nor will I ever get a dog. I … Continue reading Dog Ramble
To pursue whatever you set your mind to with the joy of a six year-old child: that’s said to be how we should seek to live. This supposes that every six-year old child embraces all of life joyfully, which they probably don’t, as personality and nature come into play. Largely, though, small children do seem … Continue reading Innocence
In Edinburgh, we have gained 50 seconds more light today compared with yesterday. Tomorrow, a further 58 seconds will be added to the bag, over a minute the following day, and by New Year’s Eve we’ll have a whole six minutes more of daylight than we had on the shortest day a week ago. Not … Continue reading Tender Is The Night
He had a coffee; I had Earl Grey. His was frothy and a bit cold, he told me; mine was too hot, so I blew on it, not that it made a whit of difference. “From England? You’re walking the whole way from the North of England to Santiago?” “Yes. The one in Spain, … Continue reading There’s a Hole in my Bucket
It’s oft quoted, and it sounds like it might be from the Bible, or from Shakespeare, but the attribution for recording to print that 'the darkest hour is just before the dawn' falls to the English theologian and historian, Thomas Fuller. He wrote it in 1650, in language that is somewhat more archaic than what … Continue reading The Darkest Hour
I’m finding it hard to let go of the weekend. It was such a lovely one, pink whipped morning skies and trails of orange cloud by evening; the evening (when measured by the availability of light) being 3.30pm. Neither my mind nor body have quite made it to Monday and I’m hankering to be back … Continue reading Pigs Might Fly
