Daisy Chain

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    The weather here (London) has thrown a sticky grey duvet over the city leaving us all scuttling around chasing the gaps and hopping into patches of sunlight for respite. Normal life is becalmed, because those who can have gone away and those who must have taken their children with them. It feels like a minority are sitting at desks, trying to ignore the fact that perhaps we might be more productive if we were actually on holiday.

    I am fortunate, because at the end of the month, a short break beckons. The dilemma, is what to do between now and then, and who to be?

    There are familiar and friendly names on this site, and it feels that the people that the names belong to, are growing and moving forward. I’m conscious that I’m not. My name exists and reappears here - too often perhaps, but the person who employs it doesn’t inhabit it enough to wear it out. There’s possibly a woman going to waste.

    I think I need to change something, and I need to do it soon, because I feel like a voyeur here now. I visit, I read, I occasionally add something that’s often quite vague, then I leave; but I don’t feel that I really join.

    It still clammy and a bit oppressive as I type. It’s not raining though, so perhaps there is some summer left in the tank, still the opportunity for lazy afternoons, daisy chains and freckled noses.