Monday, 27 October 2008

Simple pleasures

Somehow, we coexist - the tanned and toned volleyball players in their neatly marked out court, and even neater shorts - the happy kids digging and building in the best sand for miles - the dogs with noses snorting low, tails on fast speed, paws relieved to run here - me, barefoot, daydreaming. 

Whatever the weather, and whoever is there, I always walk through the volleyball pitch sand. It reminds me of home. 

This morning, in wonderful sun, there was only me.
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The first cold day, today. In blinding sun, I sit behind groyne no.9, out of a cruel and cutting wind that snatches at the pages of my notebook. Hot enough sheltering there, to take off my jacket and scarf. Before the end of the page, I had closed my eyes. The sun had pulled me into sleep at word 53.
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The nectarines refused to ripen in the bowl as the label promised. I am stewing them, as I write, with a handful of blueberries, dark sugar, and a tablespoon of wine. The house is fragrant with their nectar. Now they are doomed. 

Just before I clicked on PUBLISH POST, I had to try them so you would know. No surprises, really - heaven in a bowl.