m i s t

Even though the mist was very low, and we could see very little, our day Dunbar was so lovely. The air was soft and velvety with moisture and very warm. The sea was flinty and the sand full of strange patterns. The area has a slightly odd 'buried' feel, probably due to the mist, that feels very conducive to detective stories and sensation fiction. Best of all was the company, which made me sad that we live far apart, but happy to have good friends.

b r i g h t

The sunshine in Glasgow this morning is beautiful. We are out for the day to Belhaven Bay though, where the forecast is for mist and fog. We're meeting good friends though, so never mind.

d r i p p i n g

There has been so much rain this week -- deluges of it on some days. The garden is permanently dripping wet and the doglet's feet are always damp. When we come in, she lies patiently and luxuriously on the hallway mat waiting to have her paws individually dried with her personal towel; this week that has taken quite a few minutes I must say.

All this rain makes me confused about time -- Autumn (and therefore term) seems very close, but it's actually still a few weeks away. No need to rush forward into anxiety then...

I've always loved the look of the sky just before the rain though; and the beautiful glowing brightness of colour against dark grey. Inspiration for Autumnal knitting projects.

E d i n b u r g h

I spent a miserable day in Edinburgh yesterday. I was in a melancholy mood setting out, and this was only increased by being completely drenched in rain within the first 10 minutes of being outside (forcing me to have to buy a pair of very unflattering tracksuit bottoms from H&M to replace my sodden trousers, and having to wear them all day). I forgot to charge my phone, and to bring a camera. Or any other recording tools, such as a pen. Once there, the town grated -- I felt very sensitive to the (cacophonous) noise of festival goers and irritated by their domination of the pavements. Everyone seemed to be determined to occupy the soundscape and ignore the environment around them. I had gone to see this exhibition, which was quite lovely, but almost impossible to engage with due to the noise. Argh.

Going on my own turned out to be a bad decision as it is only by having company that you can vent your frustration at being blocked at every turn by people probably on their way to a recording of Quote Unquote. And I haemorrhaged money all day -- some of it on a disposable camera, just so I could obscure the lens with my finger in almost every picture. Here are some of the bearable ones.

It'll be a while before I venture East again.

c a s t l e

My grandmother and I spent a lot of time when I was small thinking about life in Manorbier castle. Probably it was awful, but I imagine lovely things.

f o c u s

In an attempt to bring focus to my fuzziness, over the last week I've been:

• eating quite healthily and enjoying a tip someone gave me to eat something warm at each meal (boiled eggs, or corn on the cob for lunch has been good). 
• trying to have good sleeping routines (not done so well on this as I keep going to bed too late). 
• remembering more often to replace some cups of normal tea with herbal ones (always forget how nice that is).
• actively deciding to finish work for the day rather than forcing myself on until a job is finished (it never is). 
• most surprisingly, doing ten minutes of meditation every day. We have started on the headspace app, and I think its (subtlely) really helping. I've managed work stresses a lot more calmly this week, and haven't had so many butterflies in my stomach in general. 

Still a few things to work on and let go of, but making small steps in the right direction.

p e o n i e s

These lovely papery petals were on our front room table all last week. I always think that I like them best when they are tight globe-shaped buds, but then when they're all messy and open they're like crinkled tissue paper, or crumpled fabric, and they make me think of dusty rooms, milky lighting and the middle bit of seasons.

q u i e t

This is a slightly strange, middling time of year that I associate with things being not that easy. I always think that it will be good to be quiet and not have much on in August, but then feel a bit directionless, tired, foggy. Just a bit out of sorts and not on top of things. I feel like that today.

Here are some photos of a beautiful small church we visited, deeply hidden away near the edge of the Cleddau estuary. The red of the door is so vibrant. Then everything inside is so quiet.

c o r n

I'm sitting here this morning, listening to crazy Devendra Banhart and thinking, 'isn't he just Marc Bolan?'. In any case, 'Something to Behold', with its little curled up crooning of 'goooolden corn' brings back these grassy landscapes from around the Pembrokeshire headlands. So peaceful, with only soft whispers of the breeze and thundering sea in the background.

Dad and I had some very illuminating walks as he kindly showed me how on earth my camera works (thank you, Dad). But I'm a real dunce about this -- normally my brain works okay and can retain quite a lot of information (even if it's probably absurd and pointless) but when it comes to ISOs and shutter speed, Fs, white balance etc. my brain is a sieve and I can't retain anything for more than about 30 minutes. I still have lots to learn. And remember.

Some of these were taken from the window of a moving car. I like the fuzzyness of those ones.

'I could take my little teeth out and show them a real good time'... yes DB.