Walking to the Co ...

I often think this little bit of downtown Dunoon is a tad unexpected. The main road is visible to the left, but among the tall trees is a path leading from the Rose Garden in town, past a surgery and the former library as far as the Co-op, and I always walk along it in preference to the pavement. The Milton Burn makes one of its appearances down a steep bank to the right, and beyond it is the Glebe and a primary school. 

Why all this information? Because I don't like wordless blips, I suppose, and because today, though quite full, was incredibly ordinary. In fact, it made me start reciting a poem as I trogged home along this path - my mind is a rag-bag of snippets, and sometimes, as here,  they're more than appropriate...

Days
by PHILIP LARKIN

What are days for?
Days are where we live.   
They come, they wake us   
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:   
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor   
In their long coats
Running over the fields.


Good, eh?