he said that we will die,
as all things will die,
go back to nature.

i agreed.

he will remember me.

the whole family,
returned in the evening
cooler, cleared the hay
from the graveyard.

it was hot, so
i layed a cold
flannel on
his head.




( in respect for david alexander mcalden. my friend )

“carry your words on every day”

we have washing.

we always have washing, yet it is the dusting needs doing, behind where no one can see, except me

with a torch..

so i label wiring, and wonder at it all.

on a break b4 the t5

&

it is proper autumn.

the verges cut and me in socks and a chemise!

and outerwear of course.

ludlow was lovely. of course.

that was a different bus.

laid some time awake, come
sadly in to the day. learned to
care again, and learning this,
remember not to care about wires,

these technical oddities, this modern
age. care about the old things, the ways.

it has been said twice, better
than not at all. have you read the old books?

in dreams make the things you love,
take them, show them to this world.

i will put them in exhibition.

i have cake here, tony made it me,

last year he made a wooden glove box, as my red x one overflowed, the year before a tiny clothes hanger.

only yesterday i hung the knitted clothes i bought in pickering, no room for the pants, i pinned them to the wall. he is brenda’s husband.

she likes victoria sponge,

too.

bread and butter for tea cake after, while all the while comfort & creature abide, gently.

the wind will come, change everything, except they do say, one thing.

if only one thing remained the same, once.

even the cake changed, we used to have victoria.

exams come to examine

every part of our character.

some times we pass, and passing on our knowledge to friends and family may help fears to lift, and things feel normal, a while.

the wind is coming again i hear, another exam.

you can forge the sick note.

how is it?