Some summers are golden; they are tanned legs, they are parched yellow grass, they are sunshine dancing a path on the ocean. Other summers are filled with the primary energy of blue and green; they are endless azure skies into which runner beans curl and stretch, they are hedgerows heavy with honeysuckle, they are jewelled … Continue reading Whiter Shade of Pale
I’m still in Ireland, spending time between two houses that are located close together, one perpendicular to the other, each with a flow of people coming and going as regular as the rise and fall of the tide. Coriander: that was the first thing the child called for at tea-time, which he got. Five minutes … Continue reading Neighbour
Yesterday, my friend and I walked the land around Ireland’s oldest linen fabric mill, Clarks of Upperlands, in Mid-Ulster. A section of it is still working after 300 years, but much of it is disused and abandoned, but for a few dog walkers, quiet explorers like ourselves, and more than the odd ghost. We walked … Continue reading Strolling With Ghosts
You would think I would have learned by now to temper my expectations. That, being from these parts, I’d have fashioned my character from stronger stuff. How I wish I had mastered the ability to rise above the suspended ceiling of grey, grim damp haze that has fallen in. By the hour I try in … Continue reading Please Stop Raining
Come on, seriously? July? Tomorrow? How did that happen? I know we all remark upon it constantly: how quickly the time goes, that it flies, disappears, but this year it really slipperdy-jippeted as the calendar dates danced away from me. I love a calendar. I love the ritual turning of twelve pages and plotting what … Continue reading Time and Tide
The good thing about walking alone is that you have time to stop and see and take note. The bad thing is there is no one to enjoy it with. I write this for you, and I walk with you. Come with me. I’m cutting up the side of London Road Gardens. Cow parsley sways … Continue reading Come With Me
Do you ever, like me, fall into the habit of being a bit of a moaner? Harping on about the things than annoy you, what you don’t like, things that could be better? I’m not necessarily complaining, but I’m defining myself by what doesn’t float my boat rather than what I love. It’s not a … Continue reading I Love…
“What seems to us serious, significant and important will, in future times, be forgotten or won't seem important at all. And it’s curious that we can’t possibly tell what exactly will be considered great and important, and what will seem petty and ridiculous.” Anton Chekhov There are many apocryphal stories about people who have fallen out, rifts that have cut deep and … Continue reading Insignificant
My favourite time of the day has come to be the evening. A fluttering restlessness builds within me and I have to leave the house, take a walk out. Lately I’ve been scheduling my walk to get to my destination on high in time to see the sunset sky burn, then I watch it turn … Continue reading Let Evening Come
We imagine that the things we have make us. All sorts of trivial stuff. Or at least I did, when I was younger. I thought I would only become a responsible, functioning adult when I had a house filled with everything I needed and more besides. And I spent years accumulating; accumulating things I thought … Continue reading All Sorts of Trivial Stuff
