The whole world washes up here. Everything, from the Romans up. Heaven only knows who came before. Drifting in with the tide, or spinning downriver. Mingling, stirring the melting pot. Beachcomb: hold a palatte within your palm Crafted from earth, spun briefly then returned. To drift, lovingly enrobed by shifting sands.   ¬© Tom Tide … More Mosaic

Waxing Lyrical

After running the¬†Google gauntlet of ‘How To Wax’…a barbour jacket: Comes the preparation. The watched saucepan, with its tin wax of full moon, turning to oyster swirls. Then a calmness. A soothing focus. Cotton plains becoming supple valleys under my fingertips. Repair of scoured areas. Worn shoulder seams, A saddle for my not so toddler … More Waxing Lyrical