The Pier

Strange to think we might be safe
in the harbour’s strong embrace
but still unable to embrace our friends,
our arms when we meet stiff
by our sides, a new unease
in our movements, our stillness, in our very breath.



Blimey, lockdown is exhausting! A flurry of cooking this morning - Himself has made bread and butter pudding with some leftover bread and I made the Christmas cake - actually one large one and two tiny ones. Goodness knows what will be happening at Christmas but I suspect the cake will be cut and despatched four ways.

In the afternoon the sun came out - oh no, back in the garden!  Himself strimmed by the bird feeding area mainly to get rid of any undercover for Rua the cat who is teeny and dainty but a killer. Yesterday she had three birds, achieved by sitting under the bird feeders with a fern over her head. The ferns have now gone. I tackled another area. I'm sorry to go on about it but I cannot believe the thickness of the bramble stems - as big as my arm - nor the height of the nettles - at least two metres as they went their way up shrubs looking for the light. Shredded again.
I managed to down to the sea to look for something to blip for the Mono Monday challenge - unfocused. Easy to do when you don't intend to, fiendishly difficult when you do. You have a mini pier fartnarkled  with a touch of noir for the week that's in it 

Words taken from this short film The Pier, topical, beautifully read and some nice shots, soporific and hypnotic.