Of all the days over the two weeks since I effectively lost my access to photos, this was the dullest and least eventful. Getting a shot of C’s coat, left as she went to buy a drink, and somehow imagining that it looks like her shade or phantom, was about as exciting as it got. Sometimes Thursdays are like that. One cannot always get the hang of Thursdays.
An abstract, but appropriate metaphor for life today. The signature on the glass says John Smith but the product is different. And, no, it’s not all the same in the end.
A holiday weekend — no work tomorrow! (Unless of course you work in one of the many professions in which this idea of a mandated holiday is just a pipe dream.) But it was an excuse to go out and enjoy company and dress in silly yellow hats, if that’s your bag.
A day at home, between trips away, and watching the beer get delivered to the pub (from across the road, for some reason) was the day’s chief entertainment. Diamond the dog becomes the latest animal to make theblog twice, adopting much the same position as on her first appearance.
It is, perhaps, a little early to be taking a nap, but it was Sunday, after all. We’ve all been there.
Ben gets some Him Time, and seems thoroughly contented by the experience. As the amount of white around his muzzle attests, he’s an old man, and at some later point in our own lives I guess we’ll all crave this kind of attention.
It is plastic, but it does look very realistic, particularly sat on a cushion outside the pub in the sunshine. Many passers-by were seen doing double-takes. Why was it there? Just one element in a range of junk (hence the pile behind it), passing through.
What beauty there is in this filament. As if it is a whole swirling galaxy of electric light. Worlds within worlds, within such an everyday thing.
I did very little else other than enjoy some sunshine on this Saturday afternoon; and I was not the only one.
Friday, at the end of a busy week, and the sun was out. I make no apologies for heading for the pub. Others thought the same, as depicted in my camera, and in Mark’s sunglasses.
Being 42 