corner view ≈ small things

today i cleaned the curb. i was getting a little restless for the chores still awaiting inside and i wanted to escape to smaller things {is cleaning a big thing, or is it smalls?}. i managed to diy the plaster around the front door, inner side, which elated me. and perhaps i was thinking, it's the small things which make the biggest difference. which is known to all, of course. so what am i stating the obvious? okay, it's the crumbs. pistacchio and lime, fyi, in a wandsworth airy tearoom. jane's corner view , francesca's hosting, kristin's theme.

transitions & this week's river update

from dark evening to early morning, things seem to be moving.

london streets

for some reason i was much attracted to the streets of the city as i traveled. it is not always so, i usually do not take kindly to the london mob, but i aimed for distraction, anonymity and company.

the latter i found in melle paradis. we spent a few dainty hours together, visiting john soane's house on lincoln's inn fields and munching on a late lunch on a west smithfield park bench. 

chiswick, hammersmith, richmond and hampstead got themselves scrutinized some. and of course, lucky enough to be getting such marvellous spring weather. every day. 
as the time of leaving nears, i promise myself to do so on a morning. yet each time i leave for home, i travel late afternoon. i blame it on lingering, but it's not practical. how to kill last hours then while luggage is being left at the hotel's reception desk, at owner's risk?

you catch bus 168 into hampstead. you have a good long walk, a good long think about impracticalities, and a good long cuppa coffee and a proper scone. in the sun. of course. next,

you sit on john keat's steel bench in his former garden, listening to the nightingale's chirpy song, imaging the man himself rested his weary buttocks upon the cool steel once upon not so long ago. hoping his genius rubs off some on your lonesome traveler's blues,

well. one can dream. i take you to the london streets

a room of one's own

a student's room. a narrow stead. a view. the metropole showing off all splendour inside and out, i kept to outdoors myself. my room, really, could be found underneath sunsmitten daylight and moonlit nights. please, find images here. {clicking and adding the word show behind the last flickr slash in url space enables slideshow. i know. it's a mouth full! still worth it. ☺}

this weather

ever tried posting from a pad? don't. ever. meanwhile, the hood.

roll in it

traveling is a good thing, is it not? 

even when you don't feel like it. but you do it, 

while you're good at it

so after weeks of all sorts, i'm actually {almost} off

by that i mean, across a country border. nothing fancy, somewhere familiar

i'll pop in later, shall i? 

drawing | nest

in the past week i considered nests and how this word for bird's homes carries different meanings. my mind and vision raced, from classics and the mindful weighing of soft toned {imaginary} eggs to considering dollops of mistletoe crowded in tree crowns, offering a bird's nest silhouette from the ground up. in the end the image which spoke to me predominantly was the feeling of loss, the point on which emotions tangle up and nest in noxious liaisons. reinforced by heedful nightly hours on the internet i give you the memory of a branch, with the promise of december inside. rose's nesting theme, this weekend. river update.