Dark Storm

N4 just before entering Hatfield

It had been excruciatingly hot all day. The kind of heat that makes one listless, unable to move, unable to concentrate, unable to do anything besides taking a long nap. 

A friend proposed an art exhibition to go to that night, and on my way there the sunset was marvellous. This image does not nearly describe the colour of peaches and raspberries and cherries and blueberries all merging into a glorious end to the day. 

It is strange to think how we are never afraid at sunset, but as soon as the last rays are gone and darkness descends, real and imaginary monsters find their ways to scare us. A sound, which during daytime would not even have been noticed, can make the heart quiver in the night. Maybe it is the threat of the hidden, of that which we cannot see, of the surprise that might be lurking, of an unexpected pounce on our sense of security. 

Did I let you know

This is just to say

I have eaten 
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving 
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


William Carlos Williams


Summer holidays/ December holidays are all about doing nothing, tanning, reading and having no plans. But to me, they are also the time of fruit. Supersweet nectarines. Peaches. Plums. Grapes. Thick slices of watermelon with the juice running down your face. Ah, and the winner: Mangoes. Saving the pit for last and then, again, diving in with the juice all over your cheeks. Maybe I am just an excessively messy eater of fruit, but I like how tangible the flesh is, how fresh the taste, how much summer remains in a mouthful.

In France my summer highlight was to buy a bag of cherries, sit on the edge of the Île de la Cité, facing westwards, and having a far-spitting competition with myself into the Seine. We may be blessed with an abundance of tropical fruit, like mangos and pawpaws, but they have the berries. And purple figs. Hmmmmm. Purple figs. My kryptonite.