The post Fairground Colours, written some years ago, includes the phrase “There’s little sadder than a fairground by daylight”.
But that was in Spain, where the heat and dazzle of the sun drain the bright neon from the rides and leave drab pastels instead.
Here in the UK, the light has a different quality.
Continue reading “imagined colours”
It’s that time of year again. The time of year when, all around, trees show us how things should be done: how easy it is to cut all ties and shake off old habits; to get rid of everything that really isn’t needed, ready to start again afresh.
Sadly, we tend not to be as good at decluttering as our deciduous neighbours.
Continue reading “letting go”
I was out and about before the sun was up this morning and rushing off to the station.
That meant I didn’t have my good camera with me – it’s too heavy for general use – and I didn’t really pause to frame and focus, so the pictures I took of the misty morning in the park are not worth the pixels they’d take to display nor the bytes they need for keeping.
Continue reading “morning and evening”
At first glance, it may look as if the rather snazzy spider in the photo is lying on her back waving her legs in the air. In fact she was dangling a few inches above the kitchen counter, suspended from the ceiling by a thread. It’s probably just as well that I saw her before I put the mixing bowl down and started measuring out the flour to make scones.
She was the second spider I had to ask to leave the house this morning. I don’t suppose either of them really fancied being outside in the rain, but I decided I’d be happier if they left the premises, even if they weren’t.
Continue reading “de-bugging procedures”
I’m really not one for enforced fun, but this past week I attended a couple of training days where there were ice-breaker activities before several of the sessions.
On the first day we had to arrange ourselves according to how many letters we had in our names – a fairly innocuous activity that was presumably meant to make everyone introduce themselves. In fact it resulted in pained expressions and much counting on fingers. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the polysyllabic Italian lady ended up at the far end.
Continue reading “(not) a singer in a rock-and-roll band”
don't confuse the narrator 