Bucolics

[poliphilo]

I could hear rain. I lay in bed and thought "at last". Then I got up, drew the curtains and saw that what I'd been hearing was the overflow pipe outside our window discharging onto the stone-flagged patio. The heatwave continues.

Ailz goes to bed at six. My mother goes to bed at nine. Yesterday evening, after I'd seen my mother to her room, I went out and picked cherries in the twilight. The tree is twenty to thirty feet high and the birds get most of the crop. They're very small cherries but perfectly nice. Cherries are a Kentish speciality. You see people selling them from roadside stalls.

Comments

[cmcmck.livejournal.com]

'Kent Sir? Everyone knows Kent! Apples, hops, cherries and women' :o)

Charles Dickens.

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

Ha, you managed to bring Dickens into it. I was trying to keep him out. :)

[cmcmck.livejournal.com]

Now, why on earth would one want to do that? :o)

[artkouros.livejournal.com]

You should make a pie.

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

It would take ages to pick enough. These cherries are tiny. Besides they're very sour. I'm the only person who likes them.

[halfmoon-mollie.livejournal.com]

Picking cherries in the twilight. How romantic that sounds. Long as you didn't get eaten by bugs.

The heatwave continues here.

[poliphilo.livejournal.com]

There don't seem to be that many bugs round here- which is good.