Tempus Fugit


Well, our short, short break in Shropshire is at an end. Home tomorrow to a cold house. An old friend's wife has died, sadly too young. Things move on without our agency. To quote Dylan Thomas:


Time passes. Listen. Time passes.
Come closer now.

Only you can hear the houses sleeping in the streets in the slow deep salt and silent black, bandaged night.


Our thoughts are with you, Clive.

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