Unfeasibly shattered tonight, but I have just had three days in Glasgow (mainly work) and it took nine shops today to find just the puppies the small boys wanted, what with two Christmas ten pound notes giving them the opportunity to extend their packs. We now have Tyson and Jess in the kennel (crowded), a bit of a leap forward really as Jess is the first 'girl' dog that's made it in.
I have been persevering with the stones, and have to say hats off to Fiona and Kaspa (progenitors) as the whole project really is making me look more closely at things. Or perhaps think more closely about the things I'm looking at. Anyway, here they are.
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He has the palest eyes: the strength of his face is bone, hard bone.
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Gift from the gods: one dry day. Much mud under foot and tyre though.
I watch most of it revolving with their adventure clothes
in the washing machine.
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One cloud a perfect swan feather in the sky.
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The moon is full, the frost is shine, the burn is not river but
distant infinity freight train roaring through the night.
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Bath Street: three beautifully-lit bay windows, three Berketex mannequins:
dress confections of fluid icing pale and fine.
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I am enamoured of my hotel shower: midnight monsoon, bad day undone.
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First seconds through the door, the smiles and the shouting I’ve missed.
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