100 Seconds to Midnight

The same boiling water that softens the potato, hardens the egg. It's about what you're made of, not the circumstances. Unknown This is the second time I've written a blog.  The first was a peek inside my one any only foray into the world of marathon running, I say peek but, after 750 continuous days, reading it was more of an endurance event than the actual race.  It became a daily habit that I enjoyed writing but grew increasingly uneasy with the fact that I was, to all intents and purposes, publishing a diary online and really what was the need?  It took a little over three and a half years, and a knee jerk reaction to the resetting of the Doomsday Clock, for the compulsion to write to resurface - what I've yet to really settle on is why? Without wishing to jump back into the realm of diary (but alternate stimuli have been few and far between this week) I have received word that my art submissions have been moved from someone's 'to look at later' p...

PLEUTER , v., n., I. v . (1) To dabble with the hands or feet, gen. in a liquid, to splash aimlessly in mud or water, to wade messily through wet ground.  II. n . (1) The act of working or walking in wetness or mud, a splashing about   Dictionary of the Scots Language One of the greatest compliments I have been paid about my writing is to have been told by a close (and far better read) friend, that there is something in the way I write that is reminiscent of Scottish author Kathleen Jamie.  Unfamiliar with her work, I am then lent the book 'Findings' so we can get acquainted. Forty or so pages in, and I believe there is something serendipitous about our meeting. Sat curled up in front of the fire last Friday evening, reading about her experiences of watching a pair of peregrine falcons, I start to think about a fellow dog walker I meet who has built up a relationship (of sorts) with some crows.  Less to do with Satanic forces and more to do with the bread i...