Skyscrapers and String



Whilst I was Away

Hello all,

I hope you are well and happy and have had a good week so far!

It is so nice to be up early, and taking in the views of my own back garden. I was thinking how much is the same as Shrigley, and how much is different.

Two days ago I was telling you about the horizon and the view, and the birds, and the things I could see smell and hear at wonderful Shrigley Hall, deep in the Cheshire countryside.

Here at home, I get up early just the same, but I am safe in the knowledge that my family are tucked in their beds upstairs, and that they’ll be down in a bit.

I can hear every kind of varied birdsong, but instead of the high pitched singing of the fountains, here in my garden I can hear a constant deep bass note of traffic in the distance, rhythm is provided by loud cooing doves and an aeroplane arriving and receding overhead. If Cheshire was Bach, home is more the Rolling Stones, musically speaking.

The smells are of yellow jasmine as well as grass here, and I can see greenery all around, there is a boundary and fences, but everything I can see here belongs to me, and has been in my family for generations, so that elevates the emotional attachment I feel to the view I see before me. The scene is more vertical here than at Shrigley, taller elements nearer the forefront.

My pictures this week showed statues of roaring white lions. My huge white cat is hunting the local sparrows who come to feed in her loud, luminous white way, of course she will never catch anything, so here I have humour, and fun, and play.

The sun has risen above the house and I too have broad ochre brush strokes of light.

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Like the elegant residents of Shrigley, we too are expecting party guests, there will be jeans rather than silk dresses, and they’ll come by car or bus, not carriage.

It is warmer here, and windier, which you wouldn’t expect given we have shelter around us, but it’s home. I love this place. I can get decaff and there’s no one can tell me what to do.

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