Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day (cleanskies) wrote,
Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day
cleanskies

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another confused insect in my house


We Must Save Moth
Originally uploaded by Damian Cugley.
Busy social day -- finally reluctantly hauled myself out from underneath the best duvet ever towards midday, lazily caught up with cycling (dull, Armstrong has it so sewn up it'll take an act of god to throw up an interesting race), drifted down to a cafe to catch up with Alex who was visiting Mark; Neal was late, and fell asleep on the table, his sleep cycle's been screwed since G8 ... we had a long long lunch and then drifted back to Tim and John's for tea and talk about their future cat; their current cat (plastic) was on a pile of Sin Citys, and when I found they were Dan's I offered to return them to him, my intention being not to find Dan in and borrow them ... Dan was in, but playing computer games, so didn't reply till we'd gone round the corner to the noodle bar; after gyoza and udon we went back to his to see his new Hal light, object of awesome beauty and probably the real reason he's not been out much recently (although he blamed the new comic) and eventually dragged Damian off home when he started getting familiar with Jenni's computer, fully intending to do the washing up and take the chest of drawers George gave me for her birthday upstairs,
moth finds camoflage
moth finds camoflage
Originally uploaded by Jeremy Dennis.
but instead I phoned Mum while watching the bats flicker across the garden and seagulls fly overhead and we decided that the best possible present she could buy me was garden vouchers so I could buy some Veronicas (her name is Veronica, Ronnie for short) for the garden, which probably shouldn't have taken an hour and a half but somehow did, we got to talking about gardens and somehow that lead out to everything else in my life, oddly she had been planning to do the washing up, too, and now I suppose neither of us have any clean mugs ... when I got inside, I found a ghostly white moth quivering with lust on the sitting room carpet, and that quickly turned into the last job of the day, photographing it, rescuing it, setting it free ... it didn't want to be handled, instead jumped onto my t-shirt and stayed there, like an extravagant badge, and could hardly be persuaded to leave, even for the delights of the first few flowers on the night-scented stock, who would have thought there was so much grip in those tiny insect feet.
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