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Blogging has been superseded by finding the plot and sewing seeds.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 blossomed.
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.
A few pleasant days spent out the saddle as a lone, languid, tea drinking guest.
Now’s a good time to reflect on the year ahead, decide what’s important, set a course, and get carried away by the banging party bus on the beach
All is not well in Eden.
Something about boys 