The sunset streets unfold around me as I move towards the freeway listening to Handy Dandy and thinking about America. He has long been a favourite of mine this insouciant protagonist full of braggadocio and vulnerability in equal measure whose very name itself means simple and easy
The sea and sky are softly grey today. The seaweed strewn beach could be a pocket of space picked up from its usual home and placed somewhere different entirely.
t’s still brightly hot and sunny here in California. We sit by the fountain in a pocket of shade enjoying the cooling music of the water and idling away lazy minutes.
We were with the waves yesterday afternoon. The Labour Day sun blazed down on a beach both packed and raucous.
I lie enveloped in velvet darkness with no place to be but right where I am. The chorus of crows outside tells me it’s morning but it could be the evening or the middle of the afternoon.
I’m sitting quietly with my son by the river in Le Bugue just watching it flow. My husband and daughter are out on the water canoeing close by and the morning is gently grey.
In the end everything came together and we did catch that plane. We’d had the tickets to France booked for a couple of months but given international travel’s current state of play that meant next to nothing.
I sat in one of my favourite LA haunts doing nothing in particular a couple of days ago. It has been an unusual few weeks; discordancy has been the Lord of Misrule.
We sped down a clear freeway this morning. The sky was bright with an unearthly translucence that was almost blinding.
I sit in my white chair in the late afternoon gazing out into the sky. Through the open window I hear the birds idly gossiping, the odd car door slams and voices murmur in the street below.
My mind has been lost in time past recently. The father of one of my oldest school friends passed away a few weeks back
We found ourselves without the children my husband and I, on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I hadn’t been feeling as bright as usual for one reason or another
