Tuesday, May 31, 2016
It's that awkward time of the day when I'm up and ready to do some DIY but can't really start because it's way too early for any neighbourhood noise. There's a pleasant warm May time fuzz quietly laid out across the gardens and woodland this morning that I don't want to break (too soon) with my hosing, brushing and clattering of ladders outside. We're good, well reasonable neighbours. So I'll settle for a quick psychedelic breakfast of the organic, non narcotic kind; eggs and toast that is. Radio Scotland lasted all of five minutes before switch off. Yesterday I came close to drying out and over compensated with an overdose of fruity milk bombs. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing apparently so I've a mild milk hangover that eggs and toast should fix. This simple self-medication is just a matter of doing what your body is kind of telling you to do, following a craving or an appetite and seeing where it takes you. Into the land of well being you hope. They come around for good reasons and who am I (are we) to deny them?
The pictures? Crazy, lurid eggs that you'd never want to eat, slurply gloop, the great red spot of Jupiter captured by a powerful phone or post LSD spittle? None of that, just last week's bath bombs from the emporium known as Lush (and the bath wasn't mine either.)