Three hours later I am perched like a graceless bird on a tall, uncomfortable stool, sipping tea and awaiting the arrival of the others at the airport; their flight is delayed but it gives me a place to work, to roll words out of my head and onto the floor. It gives me the opportunity to stare unapologetically at people, to watch them as they pull little selections of their lives around on wheels, to watch as they struggle to make it out of the terminal building before lighting a cigarette.

My days, though not entirely directionless, lack a clear shape. I could compare it to living with something that is very sporadically demanding, but I’m not sure what that would be. I haven't got the patience to think about it. At least it’s warm in here, which turns my thoughts into spores that settle on the table and the plastic grass. Do plants have the same calming effect on a person if they aren’t real?

Moving Me

I'm moving house this weekend, and at some point during the packing-up-everything process, I realised that a new bath mat was probably overdue. An odd thing to be sharing with you, I know, but Society6 have recently added bath mats to their terrifyingly long and impressive list of available products, and so I was able to order this delight. 

My new bathroom (again, not sure why I'm telling you this/perhaps this is what blogs are for/and maybe you need a new bath mat too) has sage green tiles and so I figure I'll just turn the space into a forest. Reasonable? I think so. I like the idea of falling out of the bathtub directly into a woodland.


Etchings by Phil Greenwood have me dreaming about everything these intaglio prints evoke.