stories and illustration

Leaves 1


No possibility of taking pictures of the glorious colours of autumn massing on the trees, as the high winds have torn the leaves from the trees. In the sheltered spots, in the afternoon, the fallen leaves are edged with frost. Of course it is nearly December, but for a few months I have scarcely noticed the time nor the weather. Now walking on the path above the river on the far side my eyes are mostly set towards the ground. It is good to be out, in my shapeless faintly sparkly beanie from The Heart Foundation (new:£4.99). For the first time in my whole life I bought a pair of gloves last week because I fell in love with them, but I’m not using them tramping round the countryside, I go out with old gloves and an inhaler, and a fiver in an inner pocket in case I come across a cappucino, but in this direction there is no such thing for several miles. When I lived in Sunderland I had a great weatherproof jacket that had seen better days, and my son, who was allowed to look in my pockets for change and take anything under 5op, said the pockets of this jacket were always filled with crumbling Oxo cubes and nails.  The nails I could understand, as I was studying sculpture, but the Oxo cubes defeat me, as I never actually used them for cooking.  My son once told me, rather hesitantly as he thought I might be offended, that his friend Sam had said:  “Let’s face it, Matty, your Mum is just the most stylish tramp in Sunderland!”

November 23, 2016 Posted by | Art, Photography, Uncategorized | , , , , , | 1 Comment


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