Only after up-loading the photograph from my camera did I notice the anchor built into this door knocker. I spotted the knocker on the same door as yesterday's key-hole.
One of my last notes before saying goodbye to Sitges for this year is why the wireless laptop on the reception desk was not connecting: "It always happens when it rains," a receptionist explains. This reminds me of the famous excuse for the disruption of rail services by a light fall of very fine snow, issued by British Rail before the railways were denationalised: "It was the wrong sort of snow", said BR. How dull life would be if everything worked perfectly all the time under a cloudless blue sky!
On the doorstep of a house, currently undergoing refurbishment, which gives straight on to the street, sit two workmen. Each of them is holding a mug of tea. Somehow, I know that I am home.
3 comments:
Another interesting photo! What is the peachy coloured surface, painted plaster?
By the way, I enjoyed your poem at qarrtsiluni! Sounds like Dave reading it, was hoping to hear your voice.
Alternatively: it's the wrong kind of laptop
Weathered paint on old wood I think. What a colour, though! Yes, it is Dave reading the poem. I am shy of the whole idea of reading my own stuff as well as idle. In thanking Dave I said that poets seldom read their own work well, and that he had brought out aspects of the poem, which I hadn't thought about.
Post a Comment