Mull

Long day at the Wearslide, not the best day out for anyone, but the sky was amazingly clear and blue and the sun shone so brightly …

At home the view of the Tyne Valley from Dawn’s allotment was without a shade of haze, everything could have been up so close … felt a sense of ease when I worked out income coming in, and Shozzy 7 hit a particularly calm part – if only such a sense of tranquillity could always so easily come from marking some income and remarking on sunshine. Trees are coming out in light green sprouts of leaves, if not heaving with blossom.

Around dusk I went for a spin in the Volks to clear my head, and went west, where an amazing volcanic plume of cloud was rising from the horizon, with its immaculate backdrop of blood red merging into light yellow and grey blue. Hammering along, Moby on, some woes of the world eased while mulling the past that’s gone and the futures that won’t be.

Mixing 1990s choons with a newish car, full of vigour, grappling with age by way of weights and new Wranglers. No more baggy blue jeans hanging off a beanpole, lumbering around in the Skod. The missus also looks outstandingly fit these days. We both are .. which makes the lack of a nebula all the more vexing. But the good things remain. Richard Burton wrote about how he and Liz making love had all the carefree abandon of a one-night stand every time, while his approach to money was, ‘we’ll always grow some more’. What a fascinating man, rising from the valleys to true global stardom, and yet …

I digress. See this? The kitchen’s tilted under the weight of my guns 20150425_201414[1]

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