Precision People

A bike, a hill, I will experience the joy of combining them, and to top it off I will skid gracefully to a stop at the top of the steps at the bottom of the hill, I thought, and there's no need to test the brakes before setting off is there, no, I'll just start the skid early in case they don't work. So I did, but the bike, being European and a girl's and well-maintained, had its front brake on the left hand side, exactly where it's never been on any bike I've ever crashed, and so I was launched off and upside down and somehow both my shoes ejected and I had the luxury of hoping the bike didn't land on my head before it landed kindly on my shoulder and we both clanged togther on the ground, I laughing and it spinning, and I've a bruised ankle and a scratch and nothing more except be careful what you wish for.

Not Military In The Slightest

Leicester looks slightly cleaner and a lot more the same as everywhere else. The big shops've moved in. Black and white and dark grey and silver. The holy retail grails. A fuss was made.
The wedding went well, without distraction or bad weather, relaxed except for just before and during the bestmanspeech. Vertigo faced with a hundred and sixty ears. Dessert followed.
Manchester vomits a hotel in my skull. Nextdoor they knocked the Spar down and now the Travelodge must be built. Concrete cacophony versus wednesday hangover. Prune mouth. Webbed eyes. Brain needs wiping.
Switzerland on Friday. A month's work and some mountains.

Granville Surprise

An Amethyst Unicorn in the Aquarium. Not in one of the tanks, in its own alcove. The only sign relating to it is the one on its back. It says "Please Keep Off The Unicorn".
Most of the Aquarium is not an Aquarium. About two thirds of the space is taken up by oddities. It's as if, after buying the two large sea lions in the outdoor tank, there was no money left for fish, and the owner filled the unused space with freakish ornaments. Angel shrines made of mussels. Oyster shells like trays. Clams the size of coffee tables. There's a series of rooms full of these things, each more baffling and brilliant than the last. A volcano made of molluscs that lights up every twenty seconds. A man made entirely of whelks. A twisting, climbing corridor connects the rooms and the route it takes is disorientating. The exit signs keep changing direction. Eventually some stairs take you down directly into the gift shop, which makes no mention of the weirdness and very little mention of the fish. Mostly it's postcards and pencils.
Back outside the sea lions take a break from swimming the circumference of their tank to be fed. A girl appears with a large silver bowl of fish. The largest sea lion, Hector, is already waiting, stood up nine feet tall at the opposite side of the tank, battling seagulls. The girl throws the fish directly down his throat. The smaller, Sally, stays in the tank and pokes her mouth just out of the water for the fish to flop into. They make very little noise. When the girl shows them the bowl is empty they resume their circling. They only ever go anti-clockwise.