Sunny Sunday


Drinking Cider. Paul Weller at Glastonbury rocking out of the laptop in the background. Syd watching whilst searching and dreaming about new acoustic guitars. There is always a better guitar to dream about.

Saw mum and dad. Always lovely to have them to visit. I spent the morning making homemade quiche and chocolate cake and lovely garlic roast potatoes and cleaning and sorting and tidying.

We went for a walk up to Gorpley. The woods are ancient and full of bird song and green. The fields high with buttercup and clover. Sun dappled light falling over hills and rocks and sheep.

There is little to say. There is little that I want to say. This is an end. An end of a thing. A thing. A time. A time of reflection and making and sharing. The room is being taken. The room is being claimed back. Property……

There are some clouds in the blue. The shadow of a tree hangs on the gable end of the house on the hill. All is ok really. All is ok. Almost drunk the whole bottle.

On the walk back down the road I saw a robin, dead, lying in the gully between pavement and road, so beautiful and peaceful, Syd wanted to take it home.

More tea and talk with mum and dad. Its so good to see them both. My parents are my home.

The Glastonbury noise is making it impossible to write and hey the buzzer has sounded anyhow.


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