Picking a huge bunch of flat-leafed parsley, then of nasturtiums and not being able to get the green and pleasantly bitter smell of the one and the warm, spicey smell of the other out of my head.
I read this in a book review. It's from the musical Hair:
"When the Moon is in the Seventh House,
And Jupiter aligns with Mars,
Then Peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars".
Now wouldn't that be nice.
There is a steep slope coming down from the railway bridge beside the station, and leading to the station yard, where you cross the road to Safeways. I see, on the sloping pavement, a grey haired woman, one hand on the steering wheel of an electric invalid buggy, hurtling down at full speed. She turns left, negotiates the pavement ramp without stopping, mounts the ramp on the other side of the yard, and turns left following the slope into Vale Road. Not once does she stop or slow down. In her free hand is a cigarette, which she puffs with an aplomb to match her driving skill.