Sunday
It’s a beautiful day, a good day for a walk – but part of me is too lazy to go out. I message with S, he’s just got back from an osmitsa in Italy. He says ‘Go for a walk! Send me proof you’ve been’.
On the way to the wood I see the most beautiful miniature iris: tiny, perfectly purple, basking in the sun. Next to the wood there’s a lone house – just the one, detached in a street of mock Tudor semis. Brambles sprawl across the garden and deep in their clutches there’s a red camelia in bloom.
It’s warm out and the mud’s all dried up. I take off my scarf and wonder why I bothered with the wellies. The ground is solid. When I get to the crest of the hill and look down across the fields, I think again how much I’ve missed writing weeknotes.
I take a photo of old mans beard, glinting in the sun. On the way back take a different photo for S: green fields, blue sky. Try to make him miss home.
Monday
As there’s so much litter, I head out and litter pick before work. The moon is fat and full. I can’t stop looking at it. There’s an incredible sunrise.
Bump into TMWDIAB and we talk about the ultra low emission zone (ULEZ) spreading out to this part of London. He’s worried – too many people can’t sell their cars or afford to trash them and buy new ones. Too many people work on a route that isn’t served by public transport and won’t be eligible for compensation. What to do?
Tuesday
Friends in Athens send photos of the snow. It’s colder there than here.
I rush out to catch the sunrise and I’m earlier than I thought, so head out for the same walk as Sunday. There’s a thick frost and the fog sits heavily in the fields. It’s a pale colour palette, all soft blues, pinks and greens. I try and fail to take a photo of the moon. So big in real life, so tiny in every shot. But why?
Disturb the pigeons as I walk up the hill. Each one senses the threat in turn and flaps off in a loud panic, but none of them see the oncoming wave and think to take flight before it gets there.
Later I spot the miniature iris flowering in our own garden. God I love those flowers. So tiny and so exotic. The hellebores are also flowering, finally. I think it’s been 3 years since I planted them: fat full blooms, heads bent, staring gloomily at the floor. Lift one up and it’s glorious – white petals, delicate red spots and a symmetrical crown of yellow stamen.
Friday
The £1 bunches of daffs are out in the shops. I pick up 2 bunches and the first flower opens before I go to bed.
I finally decide to set up this blog. Doesn’t take long. I post up the previous ones and hope it gets rid of the fear of the blank page. Although I’d been thinking about it for a week or two, perhaps it was Russell’s post that finally sealed the deal: scroll down to the section ‘What else is there? – the happiness answer’.*
Saturday
Here we are. Let’s see how long this lasts.
* Sadly Russell’s old blog disappeared when Typepad did. I think this is the post he linked to – an article on the Guardian.
Walknotes 
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