Sometimes life is inordinately strange, and that’s not to say that I don’t like it being so, for I do. Like the other day when I was walking beneath the war memorial and I saw something flashing from inside a wastebin. I was loathe to stick my head inside to see what it was, so I just left musing upon whether it was a torch that someone had chucked in there or a mobile or something less logical. And then yesterday afternoon my alarm clock went off without prompting, just once, just one urgent ring then it stopped.
The spiders are coming in. Or that is how it seems. There is one huge one that is always scurrying over Bryan our sausage dog draught excluder behind the front door when I return from my walk. And then there is the moth that has taken up residence on one of our geraniums on the windowsill. It flaps about a bit when I water them but then returns to its perfect camouflage when the spraying stops.
We went to see the picture. I was a little disappointed. Not in the image but in the cramped space it had been hung it (a kind of corridor of flats). But it was nice to be at the gallery, though the café is a sad demise.
He dropped me by the Prom on our way home and drew and redrew the little coffee van. A young lad told his mother to get out of the way so that I could see properly. She hadn’t noticed me but he had and he kept watching me out of the side of his eye, wary but interested. The drawing came better……I think.
(Oh, and here is the digger I spoke off. I love watching it in use. It is a dinosaur-like being, ever hungry, and slow and heavy in movement, lumbering even. I shall return to draw it.)
