spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it’s
when the world is puddle-wonderful
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
It has been a long, long, dark winter. Cold, to make your skin crawl. Wet, to keep us fenced indoors. Our flat never feels smaller than when we don’t want to leave it. It has more of an effect on my mood than I’d like to admit.
For this reason, and given that Tim is away for five days (at w-w-w-work, Henry tells me; the w’s seem to take a lot of effort), it’s been especially wonderful to have a week like this. We have had the loveliest time.
It might not last for long – well, almost certainly not, as we’re in England – but it came just when I needed it. (Having said that, Amsterdam, any time you feel like giving us a Timothy back, go right ahead.)