Notebook

I made my own path to Wimbledon and back. Got to keep moving through the aches and pains. Calves, shins, hamstrings, soles. I stopped only for water and Fridge Raiders chicken from a Tesco. It’s still hot but there are more clouds today, thank God.

I get back and I down a Ramune in bed. From inside I smell petrichor it’s unreal, so I flip open a deckchair and sit in the garden, praying for rain, then the heavens open. The sky is piercing bright, I close my eyes, honeycomb orange. Loud music in my ears, I have ideas. The rain relents, a cat coming and going. My T-shirt is damp now, but I’m going to stick around.