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The movement of a foot

A hand in bush

Cast of the dice

Rolling coverage – all the days

Bread roll

Dish of the day

Plates of the meat

Continental drift

Antipasti antidote anticoagulant

Uncle sock

Blood brother arms

Those who can do nose

Face of adversity

On the brow of the hill the foolish people play

Espresso on, coffee pot noises

Half a grapefruit, livener

ClassiF cM

Moment of reflection, shiver through shoulders

Anne’s thought for the day: Hannah looks like Anti Ann apparently

Just had my jobs list read out to me. It’s the longest one in some time

1. Order skip (and presumably fill it)
2. Plant seeds
3. Repair sideboard door (the one in the conservatory)
4. Repair fence post (I reversed the car into it and it cracked in half!)
5. Sort out downstairs loo – needs a professional
6. Stick back missing time in utility room
7. new light bulbs in kitchen and conservatory
8. Fix radiator cover

This is not one that will get done quickly. My most immediate job is is to decide on what to have for breakfast. There are options although I used up all the mushrooms in the steak pie last night.

Ingredients to hand:

1. Wholemeal bread
2. Bacon medallions
3. Skinny sausages (low Syn)
4. Eggs
5. beans , baked, one of someone else’s 57 varieties
6. Potah toes
7. Tinned tomatoes, whole
8. The other half of the grapefruit
9. Potentially some smoked salmon though I haven’t checked
10. One green chilli
11. One green pepper

There is no rush to decide. Classic FM really is relaxing me. Fair play. I wonder if today is all about lists? There already seems to be a trend. Eleven breakfast items seems a lot. This needs careful consideration. Note no baked beans but I could add spam fritters to the list as I just came across a tin of spam whilst checking the cupboard for beans. Ain’t going to happen this morning though. I wouldn’t eat a whole tin and it is particularly incompatible with Slimming World.

Starting to feel the odd hunger pang. Juices moving. Wonder how long I could go before needing to decide. Am thinking poached eggs on toast with chillies, a bit of bacon on the side and some fried potatoes. There. Done it. Now you know.

Storm Freya is a coming.

prenderti in un po ‘di amici. Devo andare via per accendere la stufa

Yarborough Leisure Centre Reception

Wet day miserable

Raining out bare headed people come and go

60ish man in red shirt and black nylon quilted sleeveless jacket

Dark haired girl in glasses walks away, large black bag flopped low over shoulder

Overweight ladies en route to gym, buff coloured sweater and blue parka with pink leggings

Yellow hi viz jacket walks away, grey hair head bowed

Blue grey singlet and two striped shorts heads to gym with water bottle

Woman makes phone call about dog grooming in Nettleham, bloke waits patiently

Gossipping foursome fresh from the pool

Hard core body pumpers, arrive

Silver Ford Fiesta, or simlar

Two bikes chained up, one with blue carrier bag over saddle

Fat bloke buys crap coffee from vending machine

Woman in early forties with dark, wet straggly hair and pink bag for life

Gossipping women, still here, have just stood up

Tracksuited lifeguards leave at end of shift

Man with plastic pot on right foot with crutches

Dog grooming girl now comparing notes on phones with bloke

Radio 1 now noticed, I must go

Rain has stopped

Man stands in middle of car park staring at phone

Is there hope?

Classical coffee at the Blue Room Note after relaxing note his fingers tranced New York 1926, Roosevelt Hotel, Gershwin Moskowski’s Awesome Moustache Martin and Mary (not from Abertillery) Wherever I go in life I have a clock that beats time Should one day it stops working I shall return it to its maker The clockmaker The horseshoe is too small and 12 eagles can’t keep up German Baritone evocative of a bygone age Opportunity to sit and do nothing Left hand drops down the scale Mix of paper and screens Classical music pieces all seem to end in the same way Songs of the mad sea captain Sunk in Cathay, Joiner’s mate, French horn Peter plays a prelude Simple pleasures bring smiles Was the stained glass more vivid when new? Made, maind, mayd, mad Malcolm Arnold Fantasy for Horn Sound the charge, cavalry advance Living on that happy island, a goat in life but real in death Pastel blue and white ceiling with ornate grills Deep growly voice Listening to the scratching of the pen The last note lingers…

Inside the fire emits a warm glow. Flames probe the log placed on top of the coals. The time for sacrifice has come. The log must die.

Through the leaded glass window a dusting of frost is seen on the naked branches outside. Below zero. The water in the birdbath has frozen solid. The only place to be is in the nest. My front room.

A winter rose appears. Out of nowhere but it must have been there a while. Pink and yellow dusted in the same white frost. It’s a miracle.

Light gradually fails and gloom mutates into darkness. I look up, hearing only the fire. The front door opens.

Activity returns to the house. The sound of pots and pans and cupboard doors. An occasional happy whistle.

We are comfortable in our nest. Curtains closed on the rest of the world, the radio company for Anne in the kitchen.

Hot food appears on the table, conversation resumes, contentment continues…