Hyde Park

This is from last week, but what's a few days of delay between friends?

It's always cheering to meet London crows whose brashness exceeds that of their country cousins.

This is an arch, or The Arch, by Henry Moore. And how pleasing it is in its roundness and paleness against the autumn foliage and the bare branches.

There were lots of people running to and in the park, and I thought about that... living or working somewhere where you could say, I'm off for a run in the park and mean this place, rather than Kingsthorpe Rec. You can ride horses in there too.

At home, a few days of rain and the reservoir has risen and the ground is churning up dreadfully where the vehicles have been driven in the reserve.

They are doing so much work there, so many big plans in store. I feel rather out of it. But I am so tired. So jaded. I feel I have nothing to give the world.

I have my breasts checked the other day. I imagined how I would feel if they found something. I can't imagine. But what I think is that I'd say, no treatment, just palliative care and lots of it. I'm ready.