From my new workspace, I'm overlooking a small gravelly garden, big fir trees, a chaotic bamboo patch, and a dovecote. The birds that are a-twitter at the tops of the firs seem uninterested in the seed-feeders, below - wise, given the number of cats that frequent this area.
There is something really rather pleasing about the swoop and swirl of blue tits.
Just yesterday, I mentioned to a teacher - a bit stressed, she was - that were her school located within an entirely concrete landscape (as so many are), then that pressure that she was feeling would somehow be a fraction more overbearing. Casting a casual glance across the green fields adjacent to the staff room, and to a hill beyond, she murmured.
'Mm. You know you do talk some shit sometimes, but I know what you mean.'
Then I added to her workload.
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3 comments:
Concrete's a killer.
You speak wise s--t Oh Master.
Aye, your shit is good. Or 'this is good shit' as we used to say. Once upon a time.
Hahahaha love it. Fab punchline.
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