Hot, with butter and recently made plum jam.
As Chaucer Might See It
Supermarket Shopping
Thys fellowe smyles I knowst hym welle.
Yn ower smalle toun. A search, he delves
Where canst be it, we kannot tell.
In Pak and Save among the shelves
Bye nite be murmrings, little elves
Do frolik, change thyngs on displae
And kepe us guessyng eche new day
Yon lane Sixs lirks baykinge powrdre.
And be therre Pam’s and Edmonds all in haze.
Wot was thatte? Plese speke loudre
“Goode folkes use less of this these days”
Sure to reyes, I stoope and gayze
Self checkout screne, the buzzy code
Then ploddinge homewarde wyth my lode
Yes, a Daylily
Visitor has arrived
I return from my river swim
An exercise
Serious
A weed cutter whines
Cat stretched on warm concrete
“Yes, a Daylily. Hemerocallis”
Ain’t Easy Being a Cat
Planning dinner
Shopping
Clearing magazines from coffee table
Thinking stuff to amuse humans
Lunch on the Way
Thames Junction Hotel. A historic building established in 1869, the beginning of the gold mining days. This was the days of steam. The days and nights of the gold stampers, noise, ground vibrating, and at midnight Saturday the citizens would wake. Silence. The Lord’s day. All this 20 years before the advent of electricity, but, at the bottom of the South Island.
Dec 2019, behind me, young women are meeting for an end of year work lunch. Platforms have been recently extended onto the road. A couple of fewer parking spots, but, with the advent of the electric bike…
Head up. Shoulders back
The mysteries of supermarket shelves unravelled. Tomorrow…
Prescription, name forgotten, the computer knows it all. Free, long live Public Health. Oops, thought that said pubic for a minute.
Find my car. Look casual, keep looking. It’s grey. On bright days a different colour grey. Look casual.
Home Made
Gluten flour, sunflower seeds, sweat and tears kneading. 37 minutes at 180° Celsius.
A walkway runs beside our petanque terrain.
This time of year we meet visitors, German, Dutch, French.
Two people from Toulouse stopped and watched our play. Accepted the invitation to join in.
Serious players in the thought and precision of each shot.
The Playground is Empty
A child’s sock. A shirt. The river to myself today. 23°.
The Signal Box Still Stands
Restored, remembered, my grandfather worked her. My mother the youngest of seven daughters.
David in Pen and Pics 