Three x Six Words for Saturday

Magenta petals surround creamy rosebud blooms.
Religious symbolism banished by chocolate consumerism.
Chocolate covered rice cakes, moreishly cardboardy!

Rays of a Crepuscular Kind

indigo cloud
torn asunder by
knife of molten gold
of unearthly
Heaven-sent light
shine down on Earthly


Although the day is dry, it’s chilly and people seem to congregate in the hot dampness in here. Clicks and whirrs punctuate a low level burring while the low warmed hum that vibrates against my back is comforting rather than irritating. All of a sudden the burr picks up and turns into a frantic whizz of activity there in front of my eyes.

A lady greets everyone with a smile and often a name too. Folk pop in and out – one, Barry, nearly leaves with the wrong bag but Nance points out his error before it’s too late – and he’s “left with only women’s clothes for the week!”

There are a few stragglers who sit and wait looking bored… or defeated. Not to be the same, on my return I read the paper and think of words that I’d like to put down. So I do. I try to be mindful. My lack of washing machine is temporary until the holiday weekend is over and the plumber returns from his jaunt. Others are not so fortunate.

Trolley Rage

It seems like the entire population of the Isle of Wight have decided to travel to Ryde this Good Friday. There is waiting room only for those wishing to actually get out of their cars and join the Spaghetti Junction for shopping trolleys that has taken over the aisles inside the supermarket.
It makes me wonder at the online shoppers. Did they abandon all attempts to place their Friday delivery when faced with the insurmountable internet traffic of this Wednesday last? Surely the virtual gridlock can’t have been as bad as the real thing here and now!

Must Get Out More

is the enemy
of sociability
can be dissolved
in good company

The Land of Nod

Tiredness drifts
through my body;
eyelids start to droop…

Chilled Out

A dry coldness pervades the air, penetrates clothes and bones to chill the marrow within. Muffled in my many, many layers, I huddle further down into my woolly outer shell and pace to try and keep frosty fingers from wrapping themselves around my spine…

Six Word Sunday

Dog has just regurgitated birthday cake…

A New Forest Trip

An ancient forest of sky high pines beckon us inwards; we crunch, scuffle and squelch along encountering a richly-patterned carpet. Stepping carefully around a rug of animal making, we wend our way further into the gloom of the waiting woods. Our feet, two pairs and one set of four, sink into the pine-cone-encrusted quagmire with its sprinkling of late-fallen leaves and spindly twigs. Do I imagine the brambles try to trap our progress while the mud attempts to swallow us whole?

Six Word Saturday/Sunday in Wales

Feet pound along budget hotel corridors.

Sitting at pub breakfast – wifi bonus!

Sharp temperature descent highlights clothing inadequacy…

Yesterday’s digging reveals skeletons from past.

Mining heritage memories friends. Deep connections…

Talk reveals much food for thought…

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