Procrastination

The man in the office photocopied our documents, highlighted the relevant figures with his fat yellow pen and told us not to pay the bill. He told us 'someone will be in touch.'

Ah yes, of course....the infamous 'someone.' What he would not tell us, was his name. Our polite enquiries met with a crinkled, insincere smile and feigned deafness.

We asked twice.

Ah! But there was a badge pinned to his straining shirt. It said, 'My name is Mickey Mouse. How can I piss you off?' Not really. But there should have been.

Will we ever hear any more about the bill 'adjustment?' Your guess is as good as mine.


The Tramontane is blowing hard today. There are no clouds to slow it down. Hot wind sways the poplars. And I feel skittish. Unsettled.

All the pears have been picked. Most of the apples. Something ate the lovely pink raspberry I've been watching fatten - I suspect the same something that ate my cherries in June. The moles have decided to move on - with the irrigation system turned off this clay is too hard for them to shift. A snake has left its skin in the barn - I wish I could do that.

The hunting season has started. The sound of hound and horn floats eerily down from the neighbouring mountain. I'm reminded to keep the cat inside - we don't want to lose her to their drunken target practice.

My list of things to do is bewildering, I just stare at it blindly - stalling with countless cups of coffee. I've never been any good at prioritising. Can't I just do what I feel like doing at this moment? Today, that means precisely, nothing.

Sprog is at school. Spouse is working. No one will know. You're not going to tell them, are you? I'm going to sit in the sun and listen to the wind fizz through the trees.