Sometimes I say I'll do something. Time intervenes and I don't get round to doing it. I dislike broken words in others, even more in myself. A few weeks ago I said I would let the Friends of Calverley Grounds have some vegetable plants when they were ready for transplanting for their new kitchen garden venture. Today I remember, ring them up and leave beans, courgettes and lettuce plants to be collected from our front garden. On returning home I find with a small sense of satisfaction that they have gone.
Sitting with Dearest in the sun above the lawns of Burrswood. A train hisses past in the valley among the trees. A falcon rises on a spiral course above the wood and circles slowly overhead against the blue, balancing on the breeze, barely moving its wings.