Sunday

The hour has dropped back on this computer but not on many of the clocks in this house.  The cooker needs the instruction book to know which buttons to hold.  What a faff.  Yesterday with tumultuous winds and leaves and twigs beating against the window was not exactly the best of weathers.  The British Gas smart meter man phoned to say he was coping with emergencies and would not be able to come but today the sun shines through the windows illuminating a Japanese print.

My two magazines arrived yesterday as well, Newstatesman and Resurgence.  The environmental and spiritual magazine is always awash with erudite essays on how to cope.  The theme this month is the 'Dark'. so covers moths, Polar nights, dark places and gardening by the moon.  I am not disciplined enough to garden to the laws of the moon.

Also sadly an obituary of John Papworth who started the journal all those years ago, he died at the decent age of 98 years, and a quote from him.....

I know some people call me a crank, but a crank is a device used by engineers to create revolutions.

I am crocheting another blanket at the moment, hygge inspired maybe, but I love the way it comes together so quickly, and yes I am spinning the wool as well.

Meanwhile back at the labyrinth.......

Filling space is what time is about, you begin to question the daily routine as whether it is worth it or not but that leads to laziness and the sun beam has already moved past and now illuminates the window.

I have watched Francesco on BBC4, actually I have been to Venice years ago with my second husband.  We dropped off a young Karen in Switzerland and motored down through Italy.  Impressions are mixed, yes it is an architectural marvel but for me so overwhelming. it drips with a need for an artist's brush but I think Turner got it right by smudging it into a glorious   gold.  There is an uniformity in the buildings, which reminds me of Georgian Bath, the need for replication.  Though perhaps I should read John Ruskin - Stones of Venice - for education

  

It was incredibly hot when we were there, and I remember a meal 'fruits de la mer' but when I prodded my fork into something on the plate, blood shot out and that was the end for me ;)  I also had a similar experience in France when I ordered some sort of sausage. Uek when it came to the table, it was a stuffed horror of innards.  Luckily the proprietor took pity on me and came back with something else.

Coffee will be an hour later unless I throw artificial time to the wind and go on as my body dictates its need for it.  Today is the official day when summertime ends, though the berries on the holly tree tell me a different tale, as does the Christmas cacti in the kitchen with its tiny knobs of buds. That we are definitely into the winter zone.