Painting bees and flowers, but can smell cake cooking. Must be ghost cakes. Hannah phoned. She has been eating cherries straight from a French tree. She was sitting on a windowsill and it is hot outside and she and Gwen cycle every morning to buy bread for breakfast. Holiday. Tom has a rowing race on Saturday and I know that there should be more things on my list of things to do.
I have been listening to rain on the roof, sheep bleat and Alice Oswald's Dart. Her words are tangled with the subtle weight and colour of water.
