In a world of objects created for convenience and speed, I'm glad there are things like this still around. I can remember going to the Greek corner shop in Muswell hill as a child on a mission to buy fruit and picking up blood oranges each with its wrapper of brightly printed rustling paper: scenes of blue skies and glittering mediterranean countryside stirring an idea of travel in me - the Isle of Sark being the furthest I had travelled at the age of eleven or so.
Welcome to the attic of my mind. Mind the stairs, click the light on and have a rummage around my thoughts on writing, the art of everything second-hand, the natural world, music . . . just about everything. Probably not much about sport.
Sunday 10 February 2013
Little things
Small highlights in a day. Insignificant perhaps, or not.
In a world of objects created for convenience and speed, I'm glad there are things like this still around. I can remember going to the Greek corner shop in Muswell hill as a child on a mission to buy fruit and picking up blood oranges each with its wrapper of brightly printed rustling paper: scenes of blue skies and glittering mediterranean countryside stirring an idea of travel in me - the Isle of Sark being the furthest I had travelled at the age of eleven or so.
Walls, hot from the day's sun, the oasis of cool in the shade of a tree, diving into a lake: summer memories brought back from a glance at the bowl of fruit in our chilly kitchen this morning.
In a world of objects created for convenience and speed, I'm glad there are things like this still around. I can remember going to the Greek corner shop in Muswell hill as a child on a mission to buy fruit and picking up blood oranges each with its wrapper of brightly printed rustling paper: scenes of blue skies and glittering mediterranean countryside stirring an idea of travel in me - the Isle of Sark being the furthest I had travelled at the age of eleven or so.
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