I go away when things are either more fun than usual or harder. Recently? More fun, for which I am grateful.

 

Impromptu concerts, a total inability to find this despite its size:

 

All sorts of benign autumnal magic, and endless stewed apples because surely September heralds cinnamon season? I am not one to neglect ancient rites.

 

I have been thinking a lot about composite parts of the self, and trying to shake out the way I see the interior of our office. It shifts radically, from a cosy front-room arrangement to a grey hospital corridor hourly. Pyscho-geography amid whirring photocopiers and women in high shoes.

I saw a girl trip in vast platforms on the tube today and bustled along like a Newhaven fishwife thinking: ‘I value mobility over elegance’. Not one for the epitaph, I think.

 

This is brief, barely a public serviceĀ announcement.

Let me leave you with this, which I associate with autumn, for some reason:

 

 

 

 

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