It's a bright grey morning in Falmouth. There was rain first thing, for the early walk, and then not much visibility for the drive to the meeting in Penryn. But it's bright now, as though there's a sky behind the thinning fog, as though that sky has a sun in it. The red oil-platform thing is still tied up next to the grey Navy ship, and there's precious little movement in the harbour. A few small boats still on their moorings. This weather deadens sound.
Standing next to the red light at the end of - was it Fish Strand Quay? - last night, looking for a green light at the end of a jetty on the other side. Couldn't see one. Celebrated various successes at Amanzi African Restaurant, bought a book by Karen Armstrong and a pint of something local at Beerwolf Books, not in that order, and talked about - I don't know, but not news and politics and referenda and elections and all the inescapable tedia.
Thought this morning: maybe a blog post without any of that. Listening now to the faint rumble of the old refrigerator and looking out in the direction of stars.
Standing next to the red light at the end of - was it Fish Strand Quay? - last night, looking for a green light at the end of a jetty on the other side. Couldn't see one. Celebrated various successes at Amanzi African Restaurant, bought a book by Karen Armstrong and a pint of something local at Beerwolf Books, not in that order, and talked about - I don't know, but not news and politics and referenda and elections and all the inescapable tedia.
Thought this morning: maybe a blog post without any of that. Listening now to the faint rumble of the old refrigerator and looking out in the direction of stars.