Sprinting Walking Sticks

Early shopping this morning and then getting everything ready for football. I am crap just now and I keep thinking I have forgotten something.

Eco mum joined the team bus (our car had a third of the team) today as we travelled to the game. She ahd dreamed that Eco daughter scored a goal, she has not scored for the club(3 years).

A very good game of football played by both sides, the eco team had their moments of madness, but played well enough to win. Eco daughter played outwith her normal defensive role and managed to get a fine goal. Well done eco daughter and well done both teams.

Back home to domestic chores and children chats.

Made some victoria plum jam. some cakes and the dinner.

Out tonight at the book festival to see Andrew Greig, he was very good.

A lady sat beside me, well almost on top of me, she glared at me as I moved to rescue my side. Her scent was not of the freshness of the evening air, more a stale forgotten place. I stared at her chipped painted toenails, the trapped talc powder between her toes was like the last winter snow on the barren summer slopes.

At the end we were asked to wait a few moments. The oldish crowd after less than a few minutes pounced for the exits, like cats after mice, to get to the book signing. The walking sticks cut the air in a swift manner, the grey streaks of fast moving hair jostled for position. I sat and was mesmorized, the older generation tut tut.

The book is about a 'journey' as is this blip, the distant raw ingredients just seen in front of the package of baking.