Dia Dos …. “Magic Sausages”

What on earth …. six-forty-five a.m. and I’m letting the water out of the bath. I have already been wallowing for fifteen minutes up to my neck in Tea-Tree bubbles, today as I was feeling generous, I added a little something extra, a small teardrop of Dettol. I shouldn’t knock it folks, it certainly hasn’t done me any harm at all and is an often addition to my personal cleansing routine.

Head-boy and two of the three prefects are still snoozing, Willow is laid out on the floor by the side of the bath, she too has had her bubbles, a game we often play, I cup a handful of soapy bubbles and blow them at her, she then does her crocodile impressions, it never fails to make me laugh and a routine she adores. Her eyes glisten as she intently stares at me just incase another cloud of these scented orbs head toward her. Enough of the sleep, with her desire for food the hungry hound trots off to the kitchen entrance, perfectly sat to attention midway in the door,  her routine as always ….. *my breakfast before daddy* she sings to herself.

The early morning sun is now pouring into the courtyard, the bathroom is already sucking in the warmth and being able to dry oneself with a soft towel in a warm environment is always a luxury, whereas this room, which is situated at the far end of the south wing tucked into the cliff will be as cold as a mortuary freezer in just a few months time.

The hounds have now been hungered and having over shadowed them whilst they exercise their essential bimble ensuring that their security perimeter checks have been completed, its indoors now for the crew of four and the obligatory postbrek-sleep

The desire to obliterate my pangs lead me straight to the Bearded Baker and his coffee shop for breakfast. I order my toasted sandwich, managing to hoist myself upon a bar stool I notice the headline on todays toe-rag, it reads “Bronze for Daley and Goodfellow”

From photograph printed, it looks like its “Magic sausages” all round ….. Perfect !

IMG_3252

 

 

Advertisements

Day 0ne ….. Where the Wild Roses Grow

DSCF1017.jpg

This is where the Wild Rose grows, she hangs precariously over a dilapidated rotting wooden fence, and desperately reaches toward the sun and follows its path of light.  Nature steadily inhales carbon dioxide from the atmosphere through her pores, the beautiful petals and the stamen. The leaves and stem yearn for its energy and even as far down to the roots in the form of photosynthesis. This marvel of nature gives her such strength and beauty which in turn gives us more oxygen for us to breathe.  A sadness hangs alongside these blooms that give a tainted perfume and make the world look bright, fruit brambles try to strangle the growth of this wonderful creation, and the ever rampant Honeysuckle attempts to squeeze every ounce of energy out of her it can.  She never gives up, no matter how hard life is for her, she still appears each Summer, spreading her ever lustful tendrils and radiates her cerise blooms with pride like a Tafeta bustle on a Victorian dress. I admire, and tell her to enjoy the miracle that is the sunshine whilst you can, although summer is not finished yet, try to hold on tightly to your elegance as it gently fades, just like we fade with age too. Unlike us, you will be beautiful again, and that wont be long as this named season will soon return.

~~~~ O ~~~~

‘On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow, the wind was as light as a thief               I kissed her goodbye, I said, “All beauty must die”

Exracted from “Where the Wild Roses Grow”  ….  Nick Cave 1996.