A day spent drinking glasses of iced water and waiting for the Internet to come up. The kitchen is thrumming with black flies. This is of course the downside of organic living, the house free of pesticides and buried under a seething mass of insect life.
Sudden heatwave and the new autumn seedlings have shrivelled up and gone to dust. The dogs pick up the ice cubes in their drinking bowls and carry them through to the living room where they can surreptitiously watch cold hard cubes of nothingness melt on sofa pillows.
The housemate is on holiday and has wrenched her back while taking it easy. The tomatoes were not picked last week and will arrive late this afternoon. Crates and crates of ripe squishy tomatoes, with crateloads of backbreaking work ahead. We shall have to make a plan.
When the going gets too hot for creative writing, I take refuge in poetry. Franz Wright, from Our Conversation