Monthly Archives: June 2017

Walking the bounds

My Dad likes to take a “stroll around the block” of an evening. I think that’s an interesting expression because a “block” is an American term. We don’t really have blocks here do we? My Granddad on my Dad’s side … Continue reading

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The private life of ladybirds

It has been so hot here. All the doors and windows of the house are flung wide open. Wren sleeps in just her nappy but only fitfully. She wakes up grumpy, her curls plastered to the back of her neck. … Continue reading

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Microwave conspiracies

My Dad has a conspiracy theory about microwaves. It goes like this. Whichever way he puts his mug of coffee into the microwave, it always finishes with the mug handle turned away from him when he goes to get it … Continue reading

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June flowers

Rain is gently tip-tapping on the window this morning. In the garden a single white foxglove grows in a foxglove graveyard. At least three others have died there but this one survived. I often wonder about gardening scenarios like this. … Continue reading

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