don't confuse the narrator

snail mail

This morning I went to the local post office to send a book to a friend. There are two separate counters, one for general goods, and one for official post office purchases, so, since I had to buy a padded envelope, I had to get receipts from both tills. The envelope cost me 70p.

Years ago, I worked in a school where the secretary kept a box with pens, glue, scissors etc; it was labelled stationary box because it was not to be moved from her desk under any circumstances. My father had taught me that stationery was what was sold by the stationer (the -er- matches) so I understood the joke.

Today when I got home, I checked the till receipt. Now I am wondering whether the parcel will ever arrive; I think I bought an envelope that is going nowhere:

summing up

Recently I don’t manage to update the blog as often as I would like, although I do try to write at least one post a week. The problem is, of course, that I am doing many other things as well.

Bees on white foxglove spire — it's not just the bees who are busy

Perhaps this excuse would sound more believable if I did a round up of a few of my more recent writing achievements and activities. So, in no particular order:
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four-oh-four

Recently, I seem to be waking very early. One morning when I checked the time it was four minutes past four; it occured to me I should be writing a poem with the line “4:04: sleep not found”.

That idea didn’t seem to go anywhere, but here are a few pre-dawn lines:

awake again at 4 am

birdsong weaves around the house;
the chorus swells and fades
in fugal waves of sibilance
to spin a spell that teases out
the softening grey.

unseasonal

The most that can be said of the recent weather is that it has been very English. Glorious sunshine and torrential rain.

Yesterday’s mix of seasons brought a stunning double rainbow over the back garden. The photo shows only one of the bows and doesn’t do that justice, I’m afraid.