To make my check-in even more ridiculous: purchase was a replica pilgrim badge:
Crow friend circling me and human friend whilst we picknicked and had a hungover catch up. Crow friends are good friends.
I’m just going to put this little graphic here on different colours of tee and heat maps.
I also think me and Frederick Loren could probably be friends despite all the murder.
Looking at Ragwort Wood again. I've lost the keys to the bloody backdoor on the website (wordpress code clash bullshit), but I really need to get in there and finish the damn thing off. It was deeply profound.
The whiplash of spending a week in a quiet old house in deepest Devon, then heading back to noisy London during a weekend where Pride *and* the Footballs (and a festival in Finsbury Park) are happening is quite a lot.
Yesssss. Strawberries that none of the garden visitors have spotted.
Ehhh, bit more tweaking and am now abandoning it. On to the next bit.
Watched Becket (the 1964 film with Peter O’Toole and Richard Burton) yesterday, and: - ooh, it’s good. - ooh, wow it is gay. For 1964 I am quite impressed.
When you see this, post an image from your gallery to describe your mental health.
🎶 “Spring was never waiting for us, girl It ran one step ahead As we followed in the dance Between the parted pages and were pressed In love's hot, fevered iron Like a striped pair of pants.” 🎶