Fly

... had some unfinished business from yesterday.

This morning I did various chores. I wondered if my washing machine was an Inuit throat singer in a previous life when it got to the interval stage of its spin cycle. I was reminded of them listening to Billy Connolly on the radio yesterday https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qnGM0BlA95I
Then a bit more of the relentless sorting, books mostly. When they are on the shelves they slumber quietly. When I reach out and wrench them off to take to Oxfam I feel like Trelawney ripping Shelley’s heart from his funeral pyre. It doesn’t take much until I feel I want to throw up.

Yesterday when craggy and I had been out we talked about the bothy nearby and I said I’d show him where to find it.
It was a bit wet but we managed to keep fairly dry as we disappeared into the otherworldly land of mists, mosses, lichens and fairy folk. I found a few chanterelles, and false chanterelles, but the ceps we saw were a bit manky.

More about Countess Ossalinsky’s summer house here ...
https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2396416251699138278