cruel deception

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover. But surely, when it’s a book you have read and loved but don’t own a copy of, when you serendipitously find one in a secondhand bookshop you can give silent thanks to Seshat, Sant Jordi, or other bookish divinities and venerable figures, and promise yourself the pleasure of revisiting beloved places and renewing acquaintance with long-lost friends?

Well, maybe. That’s certainly what I thought would happen when I found a copy of Elizabeth Goudge’s A City of Bells last weekend.
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all a bit vague, really

It’s been one of those weeks. A week when it’s been impossible to settle to get anything done. What with the state of the States, the continued looming menace of Brexit, and what the New York Times referred to as “England’s spotty lockdown”, the uncertainty seems almost palpable.

Clients are unwilling to make decisions and there’s a general feeling of the world being on pause, waiting for other people to move before we see where the opportunities are and where we should direct our energies.
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autumnal colours

It’s the time of year when all the blogs and social media feeds of the northern hemisphere are filled with spectacular photos of trees and leaves in wonderful autumnal colours – all warm red, rust and russet, yellow and orange vermilion. Personally, I have a bit of a problem with this.

I don’t deny that the leaves turn colour. But it seems that when I stop to take a photo of what looks like a promising heap of leaves, on closer inspection it’s actually a muddy pile of decay, quickly turning into mulch.
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guaranteed

I had to have some shoes repaired recently and since all the local independent cobblers seem to have been swallowed up, there was no alternative but to go to a national chain.

Actually, although I baulk at the idea of chains buying up independents, I do like Timpson’s. I heard the chairman, John Timpson, speak at a business event a few years ago and there is little doubt that the organisation has clear and laudable values and that they practise what they preach about delegating authority while retaining responsibility.
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broken

I’m pretty sure there’s no bus service that calls at the local supermarket, so I’m not sure why there is a bus shelter in middle of the car park. Perhaps it’s a trolley shed, though I don’t know why they’d need to be kept protected from the elements – especially as any that stay out after hours are most likely to be found wandering at the uttermost extremes of the car park, not tidily lodged for the night.

Whatever it is, though, bus shelter, trolley shed or something else entirely, where there are perspex walls, there is likely to be vandalism, so I was unsurprised to find one of the panels shattered when I was out on an early morning walk recently.
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