Some days life is just a steady, relentless set of missed opportunities, black bananas and misspelled blogging errors. Today I did have the time and inclination to repaint the badly painted and slightly embarrassing garage doors and somehow justify myself. Two great blue chunks of wood fitted, hinged and bolted into sympathetic holes grinning at me in a potential DIY sunny evening way. Alas, just as I'd digested the last of the Anster cheese and was about to revise my ongoing ironing and kilt maintenance plans along came hail stones, rain and other general forms of warm Biblical pestilence. I imagined a leaf to be frog, blown grass to be locusts and midges to be scorpions, it was all over without the shouting. I resigned myself to a sober and unpainted fate and then watered the tomatoes and suicidal peppers in the conservatory whilst watching foolish people bidding endlessly on EBay for antique mandolins and banjos. Truly, the amusement never ends.
Garry Winogrand took this photo a while ago, probably part of a series and it's rather good and evocative I'd say. Nobody knows why she's holding her shoes, perhaps they don't belong to her at all.