Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

My Mother's Birthday

We went down to Kent for my mother's birthday. She's 86. Autumn is coming on faster down there and my mother's wonderful chestnut tree is already dropping conkers. I picked some up and put them on the kitchen table but the lovely mahogany shine was gone by  morning.  On the evening after her birthday dinner I went out into the front yard to look at the stars and as soon as I stepped out of the lamplight I was afraid. 

Of the size of the night?  Not so much. 

Of things hiding in the bushes? Yes. As if I were living in the paleolithic and there were bears around. 

There was a pinkish streak to the north over London.  I didn't count the planes but there were a lot of them- blinking lights and steady lights- going this way, that way, high up, low down.

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