Indian Whirlwind

We’d talked about it a lot, over the years.               ‘Next time you’re in Sri Lanka,’ Polly would say, ‘Pop over and see me.’               It sounded simple enough: Sri Lanka to Goa, where Polly takes the same apartment each winter, November to April. Just a short hop, and it’s even in the same time …

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Radical Friendship

(An inspiring philosophy) I have been following ‘Sodium Haze’ on Substack and on Facebook and receive interesting articles, sometimes no more than snippets, by email every so often. I have not yet disagreed with a sentiment expressed, and occasionally I identify with the posts in a profound way. One such piece is shared below (it’s …

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Exponential

Sultry doesn’t quite cover it. We spend the days praying for a breeze. Not wind – which would bring choking dust and obliterating sand, beneficial for neither painting nor body – just a gentle rustle, enough to ruffle the tips of the palm fronds, and perhaps keep the flies at bay. It’s the date harvest, …

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On the Run

How often have you heard the phrases, ‘I’ve never been busier than since I retired!’ and ‘I don’t know how I ever found the time to work!’ ? Clichés, right? Perhaps not. While I am far from ‘retired’, it has now been two and a half months since I appeared at a set time at …

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Primroses and cake

Not even a month has passed since I squashed my remaining belongings into Rusti, jolted down the birch-lined track of my temporary home in Achmelvich (a haven of peace and decompression where bullfinches, voles and a pine marten were daily visitors to the garden) and bid farewell to Assynt, yet it already seems a lifetime …

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A mug for a mug

Two things need to happen each day to ensure I’m functioning fully as a responsible adult. Firstly, and before leaving the house: tea. Then later, preferably mid-morning, one perfect coffee, which acts as breakfast. If it’s not perfect, I might need to have another one, but this will be disappointing (and costly) on all fronts. …

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New Start

I cried when my father drove our Mercedes Benz away to swap it for another one, which looked no better to me. It wasn’t the first time, either. It seemed that as soon as we got used to one old, second-hand car, he’d be trading it in for another. I couldn’t see the point, and …

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Mystery in Suburbia

Rummaging in a box of photos, I find one I’ve forgotten. Three figures sit on a rock at the summit of a Lakeland peak; is it Langdale Pike or Bowfell? I was dragged up most of them at some point in my childhood, protesting every minute of the uphill slog; absorbing the view from the …

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