A forever work in progress

Dusk and the sky moves through hues of blue from light on the horizon to dark at its peak. To the west the moon, a sliver of a crescent to the bottom right and yet the rest is still visible like the grey bottom of an old school party popper has been placed over it. A bat flies over my head and I turn and watch as its silhouette carries on straight then lifts towards the street lamp where some poor bug will no doubt have met a quick demise for its supper.  Half way round my walk, the cathedral lit up outside as usual is in total darkness inside but the sound of the organ smashes out into the night air, perhaps the Phantom of the Opera has found himself a new domain? On the doorstep out the back of a restaurant a worker sits staring up at the top of the road maybe looking for someone but also possibly from shellshock from a busy night hoping it'll end soon. I often feel the same at the end of a working day.  A small red car takes evasive action going down a narrow road too fast,...

From somewhere beyond the horizon the sun pushes the last of its light onto the bottom of clouds turning them a pale dirty pink colour. Light traffic moves down a road adorned with a bed of dried pink blossom like spilt pot pourri faded by the spring sun. A car's headlights illuminate two dozen dandelions one strong gust of wind away from sending their seeds into the air like paratroopers dropping from the sky into battle.  Two teenage girls sit on a bench, one makes a fuss of a cat, her hand strokes the end of its tail as it moves on. For some this is what passes for entertainment on a Saturday night. For others it brings screams of terror as the sound travels a good mile across a quiet town from a funfair ride.   A dog barks insistently with a vicious undertone to its voice whilst a BMX pushed rapidly clicks like the a dolphin high on speed. A hedgehog makes it halfway across a quiet road, spots me, does a 180° turn and shuffles its little fat body back to the safety of...

J ane turned her head to the left just in time to watch the giant spray of water decamp from her husband's mouth. It partly struck the dining room table in a fine mist, before the bulk of the mouthful he'd just attempted to swallow spilled clumsily out of his mouth cascading down over his chin, soaking first his T-shirt and then a large section of his lap. Appearing to be incontinent is not a fashion statement anyone wants to be making. A few spots had also forcefully escaped upwards and then out down through the nose causing him to partially choke and then get caught up in a coughing fit just to add to his ever growing sense of annoyance. He'd failed miserably at every attempt to stop the flow of water with his hands and so now finally back in control he was sat, wet, just desperately trying to regain some sense of composure but frankly he was failing miserably at it and he felt his cheeks begin to flush. Even with all that water around it could do little to stop the burni...