Hanging on ...

I keep expecting to wake up and find a day of wind and rain (I think Wednesday, on reflection) which will destroy the last beauties of autumn and bring an end to the wonder with which I keep returning to these favourite places which every day recently have become more glorious and more fragile. I keep posting the same photos - I try to vary them, but it's hard to ignore the beauty under my nose, or in this case my phone. 

A strangely quiet day in Dunoon; the schools went back after their holiday, so there were no children about, no holiday-makers in the Gardens. There were only four of us at Pilates, grunting audibly as we did impossible planks and sit-up type rocking (is there a name for that particular torture?), and the shops, apparently, were deserted. (I know the supermarket wouldn't be, but that's different). I worked with a colleague on photos for a church calendar; I discussed with Mr PB the form I wanted him to use in a melody for which I've written words (bet he wished I'd never told him I'd do this thing though I'm pleased with the poem). For several hours I managed not to check Twitter or listen to news.

But it's there in the background, isn't it? Just as I look at the colours of Autumn in the wistful knowledge that they'll soon vanish, so I live as a European in the knowledge that that too is under threat. I try to keep politics out of Blips, but I've recently been failing as the crux approaches. I'm still waiting for someone to spell out an actual benefit that would make any ordinary person think Brexit a Good Thing. 

I shall try to immerse myself in something else. Tomorrow there are sermons to consider and the resumption of choir practices. All may yet be well ...