Saturday, May 08, 2004


arriving on top of the Tor with my favourite dog (actually Jane's - I was doggy-sitting her whilst she did a day-trip to London to try on wedding dresses at Harvey Nich's), we discovered several little piles of freshly-tipped ashes, beginning to disperse in the south-westerly wind that hardly ever dies fully away up there. after having a cursory sniff, she immediately adopted one of those fetching generic poses - "Mourning Becomes Arrow" - and I dutifully recorded the solemn moment. but it set me to thinking - yes, indeed, where better to be finally dispersed? (note to self, sons, and/or surviving descendants, though - the word is scatter, ok? not just dump!)