Thursday, 30 June 2011


A thin ankle falters, high heel caught in the uneven pavement - for a moment it looks like a pile-up, then she rights herself and the surge of walkers moves on.

Wednesday, 29 June 2011


She has rosy cheeks. Can black cheeks be rosy? Perhaps it's a reflection of the pink tint in her cap of shiny, straightened hair.

Tuesday, 28 June 2011


The darkness deepens
and grows tense - everything sweats
as we wait for rain.

Monday, 27 June 2011


4 am: the dissonant croaking of an unfamiliar bird cuts through the thick damp air that heat will soon burn away.

Sunday, 26 June 2011


In this sudden heat,
slow-moving shadow puppets
on the raw, bright ground.

Saturday, 25 June 2011


Pale girls in skimpy dresses tramp the grimy streets, on their determined way to somewhere.

Friday, 24 June 2011


On the side of the street in deep shadow floats a vague, slight figure in a long, dark dress. Blink and she's gone.

Thursday, 23 June 2011


Outside the junk shop, five broken, battered kitchen chairs with blue seats are lined up expectantly like very scruffy baby birds.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


The heaving rain has stopped as quickly as it started. Dazzling sunshine sweeps the shiny street; steam rises from the puddles.

(Rather a lot of weather here lately - it's been quite hard to see around it)

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

Today's is here.

Monday, 20 June 2011


A pair of light aircraft buzz and bumble fretfully, trapped by the lid of low clouds.

Sunday, 19 June 2011


The church spire bursts
a ballooning black cloud,
unleashing torrents.

Saturday, 18 June 2011


After the storm,
sunshine licks
the fallen red petals.

(Fiona and Kaspa's wedding day - 
send them a 'small stone'.)

Friday, 17 June 2011


The pounding, sloshing rain, the chill, the lurid orange lights, the siren howling and the howling child, face downwards in a puddle.

Thursday, 16 June 2011


Water bounces on the glistening, slippery path. Everyone walks carefully. Soft footfalls, noisy rain.

Wednesday, 15 June 2011


Always beautiful, now half the size she was, she still lumbers, hauling a phantom weight.

Tuesday, 14 June 2011


The sunshine strokes and dazzles, prods and hovers, lingers, rippling, insistent on something as yet unknown.

Monday, 13 June 2011


A runner threads her way through the surge of shuffling commuters, lifts a foot and searches, vibrating with quiet energy, for a place to put it down.

Sunday, 12 June 2011


Das Lied von der Erde: I listen lying down, feel my stomach muscles unclench, my hair want to leave my head and float away.

Saturday, 11 June 2011


At six the bells are pealing from St Clement's pale tower. Their mellow resonance outplays the frantic roaring of the traffic.

Friday, 10 June 2011


Nine of them, gathered around an outside cafe table. One, at the head, is speaking, waves his arms - conductor of some group project for the day.

Thursday, 9 June 2011


The old, wood-panelled walls seem to foster a slower, deeper, more relaxed conversation - or at least the illusion of this.

Wednesday, 8 June 2011


Outside the Travelodge, a flat, unadorned building with masked windows, a woman stands smoking, her watery green jacket almost bright against the pallid wall.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011


Under the long line of trees, a rippling, monochrome shadow-world distinct from the rest of the clashing, chaotic street scene.

Monday, 6 June 2011


The mashed purple flesh of fallen petals is an impasto painting, increasingly abstract, dissolving already as the rain continues.

Sunday, 5 June 2011


The rain is dirty, sticky, simultaneously cold and warm - surely this cannot be mainly water?

Saturday, 4 June 2011


The wind that purrs and rattles in the tall beeches fringing the park tells of warmer, wilder places.

Friday, 3 June 2011


Lurid teeshirt, tight trousers and very high-heeled bright pink shoes: tenderly manoeuvring a harp in a wheeled case, she defies every stereotype of the lady harpist.

Thursday, 2 June 2011


The fierce contrast of sunshine and shadow makes the jagged metal outline of the railway bridge's underside so sharp it could slice you.

Wednesday, 1 June 2011


The brown, barely moving river has a suddenly eerie look - the whole city starting to congeal.