1. Periwinkle, planted in 1984, seems indestructible. It has spent months buried under building materials over the years and gets trampled on by me and the bin men.
Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen, when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even. Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel, when a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.
Do not fancy that an intermission of writing is a decay of kindness. No man is always in a disposition to write; nor has any man at all times something to say. (Johnson: Letter to Boswell)
I took a tumble on Thursday and didn’t feel at all well yesterday. In fact I tottered into the A&E at Charing Cross Hospital in the evening to see if they could patch me up.