Monday, 23 September 2013

Day in brief.

Good day; bad day. Good news; bad news. Equine sweetness, ravishing Scottish sun, comedy from Stan the Man, 1069 words of book. Faint frets about all the things I faintly fret about. My mother is not as well as I would like, and I wish I could magic her better. Idiotic bet on what I thought was a Sir Michael Stoute sure thing. The great racing knight would surely not send a horse all the way to Hamilton unless it was nailed on? He lost in a photograph and I felt absurdly stupid. A bit of cooking, a bit of reading; sudden, streaming deadline panic. Where do the days go? I have no longer any temporal understanding at all. The hours swish by my nose with derisive speed; they do not care that I never have enough of them. I feel the twang and stretch of my brain as I attempt to comprehend and order all the things I must do.

Write this, in haste. Think, as always: it will be better tomorrow.


Today’s pictures:

23 Sept 1

23 Sept 2

23 Sept 3

23 Sept 4

23 Sept 4-001

23 Sept 5

23 Sept 5-001

Happy horses in the glorious evening light:

23 Sept 10

23 Sept 11

23 Sept 12

The hill in full panorama:

23 Sept 15

And standing alone, in all her majesty:

23 Sept 23


  1. Hurrrrahhhhhh! Beech Avenue! And I hope your mother gets well. And the deadline gets met. Tomorrow will be better.c L x

  2. Do hope your mother is better soon, so worrying when they are under the weather. Loving the photos of Stan the Man and the horses rolling.


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