Small Stones (11-20)

Jan 11
Cheese melts and bubbles away on toasted white bread. I take a bite, close my eyes and think back to childhood. I am 13, my face and fingers frozen, my school uniform soaked. My Mum is waiting and there is cheese on toast. I sit by the roaring coal fire in an old rocking chair and the world is good again.
Jan 12
The grey of recent days is replaced by full daylight and blue skies. The pleasure is short lived. The sunlight streaming in reminds me that the windows need cleaning.
Jan 13
Photos from a beautiful sunset last night, some good news and warm wishes from friends make Friday 13th a lucky day.
Jan 14
The railway platform is half in shade, half in sun. Rock salt spread across the surface turns from crusty crystals to white slush under the sun’s warmth and people’s feet.
Jan 15
Winter woodlands brim with different textures and brown and green colours with a splash of red from holly berries.
Jan 16
Planes criss cross in the sky above set against the fading light, set against a glorious winter sunset of purple, pink and orange.
Jan 17
White frost persists as the sun makes it away across the garden. Last year I’d have the heating on low all day, but now I wear layers of clothes and a beanie hat in order to keep the heating bills down. As the sun moves round past the window, I feel the temperature and my productivity drop away further.
Jan 18
The frost of previous days has gone, yet the grey dampness seeps through my bones. These are the dreary days of an English winter where the light is dim and the summer seems an impossible dream.
Jan 19
My 92 year old father rings and tells me that he has a rodent ulcer (a form of skin cancer) in the same casual way with which we discuss the football.
Jan 20
A friend rings with his good news interrupting the flow of thoughts. I break for a cup of coffee, trying to balance the phone on one shoulder whilst filling the kettle up, switching it on then opening the fridge for the milk. Having completed this tricky manoeuvre, I drop the phone as I attempt to put it back in my hand.

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About Peter Domican
Marketer and change professional. Writer and photographer.

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