I don’t think you could guess what this is …. can you? I needed to go to the bank before closing time this afternoon, after dusk and in the drizzle. Our clocks changed only this Sunday, so a dark early evening is a novelty. I was enjoying the patterns of light on the pavements and roads - car lights, white and red, pedestrian crossings, shop window spill - and as I crossed 2nd Avenue at a zebra crossing I clicked once or twice on my mobile’s camera without stopping walking. Didn’t want to get risk getting run over.
And there you have it! Isn’t the texture superb?!
Talking of texture: one of the things I like about city life is the unexpected variety of dogs, and there are a few breeds I really like: mostly these are the ones whose fur looks so gorgeous I can hardly resist getting my hands onto them to squidge it. Surprising revelation coming from me, huh? I probably am suffering from what I suspect all these city dog-owners also live with, which is a desperate lack of relationship with nature. If you can’t find it ‘out there’, buy yourself a bit of it to bring into the apartment, even if the poor creature will never get to exhilerate its street-toughened paws in a field of damp grass trampled flat by cows, or to retrieve a manky stick from the under conker tree, or to chase a rabbit through woodland scrub. The sorts of things that the sorts of dogs do that get to live a life.
It is not the shiny or sleek ones I fancy, not the short-haired or wiry-haired ones, nor the hairy-hairy ones (they are the worst); but those ones with short rough curly hair, like a curly haired retriever. And like a coat-liner-garment-thingy I remember of Granny Mac’s that I loved the feel of, and the colour, and … the whole association. I think it hangs in Dad’s wardrobe now and gets worn on the coldest winter days under a macintosh.
Then as I was googling for the name of one of these dog breeds that I like, I stumbled across one of those “What kind of dog are you?” quizzes, and was most (most terribly) upset when the result came back as a Chihuahua. What ridiculous, fabricated nonsense. I will never trust those pseudo-psycho internet tests again.
Ah, now it’s me that’s rabbiting.
I am clearly under-occupied, with Luca out of town. But havin’ fun!