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Hundreds of channels and still we wind up watching a miniature John Deere on the fairway of the course next door, mowing the first growth this year
in a snow flurry that thickens to a blizzard. Strange to have lived more than four decades and not to know that grass could be cut in snow.
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When was the last time I noticed her scapular bones? They have never been so clear. At the deepest point of the ' V ' in the oncology nurse’ s scrubs I can’ t help glimpsing and thinking‘ aureolae’ – a charm as good as the next against death.
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We go halves on the giant biscuit that has reached its Best Before, before I give in and take the lion’ s share.
Her desire to feed me is stronger than ever – sandwiches for later, fruit in danger of going off, a dollop of mayonnaise in a night light holder.
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