Sunday, 31 July 2011


Sunshine on dusty, yellowed pages and a shabby, gilded cover with curling corners.

Saturday, 30 July 2011


Quieter, softer: early morning - we should get to know each other.

Friday, 29 July 2011


Mexican chicken salad: green, pink, brown, herby, spicy. Gently, it bites.

Thursday, 28 July 2011


Today I was unanchored to the world - my eyes saw nothing. Try again tomorrow.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011


The abandoned freight container has become a work of art, its deep-blue panels patterned with layers of half erased graffiti and the peeling traces of fly-posting.

Tuesday, 26 July 2011


Four slender white legs come flash, flashing on the grey road. Four dainty black shoes tap, tapping. At the edge of vision: green, amber, red.

Monday, 25 July 2011


Despite the soft, stippled sky, there's a small, insidious chill that makes the body stiffen. It's as if the cold is a worm within.

Sunday, 24 July 2011


My painted plate: the white yoghurt runs into the burnished yellow of turmeric, the smooth surface broken by floating beads of channa dal.

Saturday, 23 July 2011


The men sitting opposite read the news on their phones. It's an undignified activity: two outsize, baggy children poking and peering at their tiny screens.

(I've been away for a week without internet access, but continued to write these every day)

Friday, 22 July 2011


In the sculpture park, everything is sculpted by the eye, aesthetically heightened: tree, gate, sheep.

Thursday, 21 July 2011


The big, rectangular window in the white gallery wall is a picture that dissolves and re-forms with the shifting angle of view.

Wednesday, 20 July 2011


In the millpond,
time’s unchanging

Tuesday, 19 July 2011


The heron is invisible – so still – until it unfolds wide, blue-grey wings and floats above the water.

Monday, 18 July 2011


The wavering reflections of tall windows in the dark canal conjure a fantasy of living in this elegant, haunted place.

Sunday, 17 July 2011


These ragged purple flowers that sprout against the old, red bricks must have bloomed here unseen when this was all dereliction.

Saturday, 16 July 2011


Rain on the train window turns the landscape into an unfurling pointilliste fresco.

Friday, 15 July 2011


Muggy heat, but it might be cold tomorrow. Noisy electric fan, but behind it is silence. Mounds of work, but no urgent deadlines. Floating anxiety.

Thursday, 14 July 2011


Suddenly, vibrating warm air and deep colours:
a storm approaching - or passing over.

Wednesday, 13 July 2011


The office pot-plant crouches miserably on the window-sill: a thick layer of sticky black dust coats its once shiny leaves.

(after writing this I washed it and talked nicely to it)

Tuesday, 12 July 2011


Deserted office after hours, but noisy still: a tumult of voices funnelled upwards in the cleft between buildings and a roar of low-flying aircraft funnelled downwards.

Monday, 11 July 2011


The man is all grey - hair, clothes, aura. He moves so slowly. Doesn't want to get to where he's going. Doesn't want to get to anywhere.

Sunday, 10 July 2011


On a warm day the cool pleasure
of clothes holding skin less tightly,
skin holding flesh less tightly.

Saturday, 9 July 2011


Baggy, mournful eyes,
ears of long, grey, silky hair -
spaniel woman.

Friday, 8 July 2011

Red-black and blue-black

Cherry and blueberry
Red-black and blue-black
Shiny and velvetty
Bite one and suck one
Neither too sweet

Thursday, 7 July 2011


White smudges all along the street - the paw-prints of an alien visitation?

Wednesday, 6 July 2011


The sun comes out. The thousands of old pink bricks in the wall opposite my window light up softly and emit their infinite gradations of rosy glow.

Tuesday, 5 July 2011


Chill rain pounds on the roof, which hunches self-protectively, dribbling at the edges.

Monday, 4 July 2011


Back-to-back in the bus aisle, two floral cotton dresses, two flushed bare arms, swaying in the clammy heat - they could be a single, two-faced creature.

Sunday, 3 July 2011


The deep, gentle, oily scent of lavender reaches over the low garden wall, clings to trailing fingers, fills the pale London air with purple.

Saturday, 2 July 2011


The man in the green dragon suit bends over, carefully packing his groceries into a big back-pack. His stiff, bright-green tail sticks straight up.

Friday, 1 July 2011


Behind the fluffy tree, two perfectly diagonal contrails cross at right angles - a thick, bright X chalked on the sky.