Wind billowing in the trees; a fine Summer rain; chilled air. Later, work, and the massive clearance that this room needs. But for this moment ... the sense of place. There is a foghorn intermittently from Falmouth - or maybe just heard intermittently? - and the cockerel announcing either the rain or the morning or both. Birds, or course, and the occasional flutter of this carrier bag as the wind gusts in through the open door.
London. Viv mentioned riots and there they were in the Evening Standard (I question the need for constant links) and that made sense of the convoys of police vans ('convoys' - two or three at a time) racing through the streets, the sirens, blue lights. But it was a non-news break; when big things happen, the people on the ground, at the time, aren't necessarily aware of what's up. Central London with crowds, as ever, but more memorable after several years' absence, the fleets of bicycles and the number of walled/fenced off areas being rebuilt.
Travel as a meditation. Long walks along the embankment, south bank; long intervals in coffee shops, writing and working; art galleries, windows and people; browsing the Waterstone's in Piccadilly. A notebook filled and another begun. Books bought, long periods of useful silence. That coffee shop, Notes, in St Martin's Lane (some places are worth a link). The beautiful runners.
And now a menu of routines to be taken up again or discarded. Work to be done, and the air.
London. Viv mentioned riots and there they were in the Evening Standard (I question the need for constant links) and that made sense of the convoys of police vans ('convoys' - two or three at a time) racing through the streets, the sirens, blue lights. But it was a non-news break; when big things happen, the people on the ground, at the time, aren't necessarily aware of what's up. Central London with crowds, as ever, but more memorable after several years' absence, the fleets of bicycles and the number of walled/fenced off areas being rebuilt.
Travel as a meditation. Long walks along the embankment, south bank; long intervals in coffee shops, writing and working; art galleries, windows and people; browsing the Waterstone's in Piccadilly. A notebook filled and another begun. Books bought, long periods of useful silence. That coffee shop, Notes, in St Martin's Lane (some places are worth a link). The beautiful runners.
And now a menu of routines to be taken up again or discarded. Work to be done, and the air.