The Dark Side

Not only is it overcast today, but I decided to do a shorter walk on the dark side of the hill. There's nothing there, apart from a snotty café whose staff are shredding the personalities of mutual acquaintances, and roads with thundering lorries looking for easy prey on the faint-hearted road crossings.

However, on the way back I was guided by a sequence of robins who plopped down on the path in front of me and eyed me as though trying to divine the secrets of human life. Some robin somewhere is writing an academic paper on us, you mark my words. I followed the trail of robins up the path; on this side of the hill, fellow walkers don't say hello. They dip their heads into their scarves and look at their boots.

Suddenly, a large flock of goldfinches appeared and led the way. Whirling around between branches and ground, they accomplished their mission and spiralled off into the shrubs by the side of the path.

I walked through a beautiful worn graveyard, and have spent the last half hour writing sleeve notes for the Chefs compilation album. They've gone off to James for a second opinion, and now I'm going to get my guitar out.