- St Lucy's day. The yellowed copy of the Penguin Metaphysical Poets, passed down from my sister Alison, via my brother Phil, I think. I can't always tell whose writing it is in the margins with the rather lame, A-level notes, mine or theirs.
As often, a remarkably light-filled day, the house filled with sun till it went down behind Victor's barn some time between four and five.
As always, it was my birthday yesterday. It rained most of the day, so though we went out we didn't walk, but I did today, just from home,
and a number of wonderful and delicious, small but perfectly formed, things have happened, many of them happenstantial and unlooked for, so I will post about them over the next few days.