Coming home from going home...

There’s something very soothing about looking out of a train at the countryside rolling by at dusk. I spent rather a long time doing this yesterday evening on the way back through Kent to London, as the Sunday train service meant things were running rather slow (& rather roundabout in route as well). I didn’t really mind; it was early evening, with soft deep shadows to leeward of the hedgerows and woods; white ghosts of Queen Anne’s Lace, rabbits grazing, slim dark cattle walking slowly along the banks of the Stour, and the Downs rising like a distant line of cloud off to the north.. The train went due west into the sunset, fleeing its own shadow.

I had a wonderfully peaceful weekend at my mother’s, doing very little except helping her with some of the heavier kind of gardening (me heap big tough woman, do lots of chopping – ow, my back). Back to reality now. And now the sky has clouded over, after two days of flawless caerulean, bang on cue for Monday. A clouded sky in June is the visual signifier of the self-pitying sigh it inspires in me...

Watched the film of "Snow Falling on Cedars" while I was at Mum's; rather good, an excellent cast, and pretty true to the book - yet missing a lot as well, of course. Just before that we caught the end of an episode of "Robin Hood", which both of us have given up upon lately (when's "Merlin" coming back? That was FUN). The evil Gisborne sat crying his manly eyes out over a corpse by a riverbank, while Robin (faithless drip that he is) was Kissing Another Woman although it's only half a series since his One True Love died. As the phrase goes, what's that all about, then? They've lost me, I'm afraid. Though it was nice (in a slightly pervy way) to see Richard Armitage cry.

What else can I ramble about? I got back my holiday snaps from Crete this morning but they are mostly fairly dire - I think my dear, ancient camera may be nearing the end of its useful life. It's had a good innings, as it's several years older than me; a Zenit weighing nearly a kilo, the subject of many sarcastic comments at college - to my delight in Cuba I learned that Che Guevara used the same camera. Since the Zenit seems to be on its last legs my only good visual souvenir of this trip is the handful of sketches and watercolours I did - of which I am moderately pleased with about two. If I had a scanner I'd insert thumbnails of them here, now, but I am behind on the technology (to put it mildly). Sorry...

Off home, via the health food shop. Have a good week, world.