Uncategorized

Just like that. Disappeared. Decamped. Absconded. Fled. So many words. The thing is I wasn’t prepared for it to be so sudden, so I feel a need to say it again and again. I felt anxious that something horrid had befallen them. A fat cat occasionally prowls our garden, leaving its excrement barely hidden – very un-cat-like.  I thought they tidied up after themselves. There’s evidence a fox is using our back patch as part of its run. I’m sure I caught a glimpse of its bushy tail scrambling over the gate having used the lid of the garden recycling bin as...

We call her Cathy. She sounds just like Cathy Clugston on Radio 4. Indeed, she may be that very person, that very voice in the little machine bringing succour to lost motorists on country lanes in Sussex. You feel lost but she soothes; her lilting Northern Irish burr tells me she’s smiling and might, at any moment, say: “Shall I put the kettle on?”.  I could do with a cup of tea! Heck! I was only trying to get to Haywards Heath station to meet up with my rambling friend, Jilly. Of course, I mean rambling in the ambulatory sense –...

Sunday - one of those days when the mind is fired with undirected energy. Impossible to settle; hopeless to expect to fulfil the much too extensive plan for the day I mapped out in my head on Saturday night.  A dry, bright morning. I’m told that Storm Gareth has long departed but it seems, these last few days, that his long coat tails have been flapping. Sunday, finally, is quieter. I decide on some gardening. The weeds are back after a winter absence. Or, maybe, just a season of not noticing them. Now there are lots and lots of them. I set...

My friend, Cath, bought the oranges. “Have oranges – the last ones apparently”, read her text to me on 19 January. Which is odd or she was badly advised. It’s March and marmalade oranges are still in the shops. The man on the market stall looked askance at her when she said she was buying them for me because I was away in southern Spain and wouldn’t be back for a few weeks. It’s a fair assumption: southern Spain, Seville… He’s the one who’s badly advised. You can’t buy them there – you’re surrounded by oranges, but there is not...