Isn’t she pretty?

Dumplings for dinner, a farewell to Ashfield. A sugar hit from Perama, the killer dish wasn’t even on the menu - Peanut Butter ice cream sandwiches with sour cherries. Oh yes. Plus a new camera, though these photos are taken with the old one. I find it difficult to use my nice new things. I’m typing this on my old computer while my new one sits, lonely in a dark corner.

Shopping centres are funny places. The flicker of headache inducing florescent lights, so thoroughly removed from the nature, reality, inside the incubator of materialism. Buy, buy, bye.
We are here for groceries, necessities - plus a few treats. Leaving the insipid Sunday sun we trundle along behind trolleys, loading up. An hour later we leave, car laden, emerging into a mid-afternoon storm. Thunder cracks, exposing us to reality, raw, so different from the neon cocoon.

The book I’m reading has a strong ceramics thread, clay, biscuit, glazes and kilns. I’ve been reading it to send me off to sleep and my dreams have been tinged with a way of seeing that is altogether different to my usual view. These plates were made by a student ceramacist for our secret dinner, which went swimmingly, plates included.

Omar (Little) is a noisy little splasher, but the best and prettiest roomate I’ve had for a while.