Tag: FMP
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10 – 14 August 2026
Tuesday This morning the park is damp with dew. It’s light relief from the dry crunch the grass has been making recently. A regular I’ve chatted to over the years throws a ball for his rescue dog and the dog races to catch it. Every time I see this man his pace has slowed further.…
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13 – 24 July 2026
Monday 13 July It feels like there was a party in the wood and now it’s suffering the consequences. The birds are silent. Catkins drape across every path, branch and twig like spent party streamers. Fallen trunks look twice as bare, exhausted and drying out slowly. Tuesday 14 July Sunrise: 4:59am There are blackberries ripening…
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29 June – 3 July 2026
Monday “Do you do this every week?” There’s trash in the open grass and trash by the bench. But there’s also a man on the bench admiring the view. As I didn’t want to disturb him, I was heading for the trash in the open first. I say sort of, and walk over. He tells…
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27 April – 1 May 2026
Monday Sunrise: 5:40am Pay last weekend’s sunshine tax with a litter pick. A row of stationary cars builds steadily beside me as they wait for temporary traffic lights to change. I feel self conscious. Am I weird? This is weird. I hold up cans and let them drain before crushing them underfoot. Pick them up…
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28 July – 1 August 2025
Monday Sunrise: 5:18am Did you know Lucifer means ‘light bringer’ in Latin? That Jesus apparently self-identified as the morning star? That the morning star is either the planet Venus or the star Sirius or the planet Mercury. That today I looked at the bright silver foil shining in the long grass and thought, “There it…
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15 – 19 July 2024
Monday Thwarted by horses would be a good name for a band. These horses have scuppered my walk, gathering by the gate while I checked on the grave which is slowly rising in the church grounds. Nestled among unattended plots, it’s carefully planted with red geraniums now, and while the headstone is at ground level…
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27 – 31 May 2024
Monday A bank holiday. I finish making a gift for a friend. In the evening I stumble across a bacchanalian orgy. I planted seedlings earlier and the slugs are everywhere, drunk on rain and fresh possibility. They’re draped across leaves, sliding across plants, the earth and each other. Fat, thick, long, short, leopard spotted, orange…
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13 – 17 May 2024
Monday Someone picks up a crisp packet from the grass and walks it over, smiling. I hold out the bag and he drops it in. It’s nice of him – people rarely do that. Minutes before I’d been grumbling inwardly about the awfulness of people and their willingness to ruin the places they use every…
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1 – 5 January 2024
On Monday we came home from the wooden house we’d been staying in with friends. As we were packing, the sun came out and turned the lake outside to a mirror. It had rained for almost the entire length of our stay, but in those final 30 minutes, everything looked glorious. The day before, I’d…
Walknotes 
