This morning there was a pigeon roosting outside one of the bedroom windows and the world smells faintly like rising bread. Yesterday at the office was reasonably triumphant so I walked across the park to take in the green, the light after the storm, and the whiff of carriage horses. They've revived Belle de Jour again so I figure what the hell, I
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I am also find of bells, and generally have some tiny brass bells around my room. I used to wear a bell but it tended to annoy people at work.
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This was at one point going to be called "belling the cat." I actually stopped hating John Tavener's entire body of work because he did a handbell arrangement I actually have to admit I like. (Now I just hate most of it.)
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