Sunday, 3 April 2011

embers, flames, mist, osr, tadpoles and julie

I love it when you come downstairs on some mornings and the logs in the fireplace look dead but when you start sweeping the grate you realise there are still embers and once you've pushed the logs together you soon have a fire that takes the chill off the room.

Not that it felt particularly chilly in the house or garden this morning. It was only when I was cycling away from the village that it was cold. Out in the lanes it was near freezing and the air nipped at my thumbs. There was a mist too hovering above the fields, including the one above. Oilseed rape just coming into flower.

Tadpoles in our pond btw.

Meanwhile over breakfast I read a lovely review of When the Children Came Home in the Sunday Times, the new oral history book by my friend and predecessor as chair of Writers in Oxford, Julie Summers.

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