nauseatedLollies, treats and sweets are not the cakes I crave to eat. No, actually, the problem's one of context -- while choc ices and cornettos may be fine and good I find it strange to have a choc-ice in a bowl as a natural end to a meal. I struggle through it twice and then politely refuse pudding, a girl can always do that, nobody's miffed when a woman refuses food.
Blue blooms black over the Sound of Mull. Take another pill, keep putting it off.
Chaffinch, Goldfinch, Common Sparrow, Hedge Sparrow, Robin, Common Gull, Black-backed Gull, Oystercatcher, Buzzard, Sea Eagle, Golden Eagle, Hooded Crow, Rock Dove, Pigeon, Cormorant, Heron, where's my Michael Nyman soundtrack when I need it? And why do they have a plain video tape labelled "AIR CRASH" ?
Over the Sound, the clouds echo the mountains and the mountains aspire to be clouds. On the slopes, the moss and grass lump in appliqué tussocks, scribble of wet bracken like brown lace and amber beads, black satin of wet rock embroidered with threads of silver water, patchwork of grey and green and brown fading into a soft white velvet sky.
Grey-green on the water, and flickering lights. Stifling in dog-stench, walking dogs in my sleep. Pale fungal trees and strange toadstooly gingerbread. Wierd sweets, stale crisps, flavourless coffee. Anxious dogs and dimming lights. Slabs of meat and hairy feet. Wet and cold, water and wind. Strops and sulks and misunderstandings (it wouldn't be Christmas unless/they're not happy unless, she has something to panic about/complain about, a good cry/sulk, tears into me, makes a huge fuss, carries on) and how did I fetch up everyone's mother confessor, and looking after the baby, to boot?
