Remember when media was created by studios, film makers were professionals and multimedia meant collage?
Isn’t your bed just the best place in the world?
Such a simple thing, yet luxury unimagined by the countless ancestors that foraged in dark forests and sheltered under damp animal hides.
The UK currently faces food inflation of 15% and fuel inflation of 50% over the past two years. Yet I doubt revolution is nigh, though encouragingly, today the blade finally fell on Boris Johnson’s fat craw.
Thank Crunchie it’s Friday!
But haven’t Friday’s lost their significance? The days of knocking off from work after lunch, early doors at the pub, the frisson of an envelope of cash and “something for the weekend”.
It’s the end of May and after some rainy days there’s a surge of growth at the allotment gardens.
Blogging has been superseded by finding the plot and sewing seeds.
Storm Eunice has just blown across the UK disrupting electricity supplies and driving up insurance premiums. There’s always something to fuel a media headline and distract from the ineffable fact that the world keeps turning and running down the clock.
There’s nothing like being back home to quickly dull the experience of having been away. Now, that which was vivid and immediate only a week ago, is rapidly being overwritten by more ingrained memories and perceptions from 25 years of living in the same small town. It feels like a robbery’s in progress.
I left the meditation centre at Yala Last Friday and since then the memory has grown and blossomed in my mind.
I’d always planned to find a yoga and meditation retreat this trip, so I was disappointed when the place I’d chosen in the UK said they were full.