The Long Walk Home

They are back. I’d wondered what happened to them…Yey for the mighty Wispa.

So, some lovely people across the pond (or Irish Sea) have stumbled across the genius movement of 365. I’m kind of jealous in a way. I want to start again. They have all the newness, will face all the dilemmas of what to do on really really crap days, will want to give up, will forget about it, will come back to it again and will enjoy reading about a year in their lives once it’s all over.

Check it out.
365: living details in a work of art
Soapbox365

And these Irish people seem to still be blogging, which is refreshing. Good to know facebook hasn’t completely won people from blogging.

“When I’m in heaven
Tell me there’ll be seasons when the colours fly,
Poppies splashing flame
Through dying yellow, living green
And autumn’s burning sadness that has always made me cry
For things that have to end.
For winter fires that blaze like captive suns
But look so cold when the morning comes.
I love the way the seasons change.” (A.Plass)

We went to a pretty national trust place today to enjoy the burning sadness of autumn’s colours. Trees on fire, pottering walks and the urban singleton family making Saturday alive.

Who says that freshers freebies are rubbish? Mr Duck (or Fwar if you get to know him) came from Brighton’s freshers fair.