Bread and butter pudding, creamy, crisp on top with an apricot glaze and dusted with icing sugar.
A few weeks ago I reported a dragon fly in Mount Sion, now I see one in the High Street. There are no streams and few ponds that I know of any where near either place.
In the almost compete stillness this evening, as the sky clouds over, the air is loaded with rain. The branches of the lime tree, weighted down with winged seeds, barely move and seem to nod as if in agreement with something dubious.
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