Raven's Bowl

I was up the great hill again yesterday. I took this photo almost at the same time as I poured my soup. I had to shelter down towards the Raven's Bowl to eat my breakfast picnic, such was the wind.
The chap you can see standing on the outcrop started chatting to me afterwards. Which I usually hate, but he was okay. He was a flautist. . I told him how I had a flute, but couldn't reach bottom C. He told me it might be leakage, and offered to help. He'd had three heart attacks and had taken to walking up the Wrekin to get fit. And fit he was! (and I don't mean that in a gay way).
My soup was rubbish by the way. Tinned soup, all sweet and horrible.
Feeling cheated by the lost yummy soup moment, I drove to Ironbridge for better soup. There's a cafe there that does great soup. I hoped it would be tomato and basil - and it was!
So I had great soup in Ironbridge. Birthplace of British industry.
Then I drove home and read my new book, and listened to theJazz, which is going to close down because any radio station I like to listen to never lasts more than a year before it changes.
don't get me started . . Talk Radio? That was a fantastic station full of informed chat, quirky programming, risque' topics and a goodly splash of Fortania. What happened? It became a sports channel. Because football phone in programmes get more listeners than a chat show asking something like, oh, I dunno . . "is there a god?"
("Never really thought about it mate, but I know the Villa better get a new striker soon")

Anyway, a few nice things have happened recently. I've gotten in touch with an old friend, via email, who I used to be in a band with. Made me happy.
And I've been asked to write liner notes for a forthcoming re-issue CD, (by one of my fifties R&R favourites!), Which has made me pleased as punch.
And the sky is a velvet curtain, and the stars are like diamonds,
And I've got the complete series of Arthur C Clarke's Mysterious World on DVD. .
And last night, I was still awake in bed reading when the earthquake hit. Wow! I was up 'till two all excited!
And, the strangest thing. I used to think the real 'heads' were the ones that were out on Friday and Saturday night. Now I think the true Heads are the ones out on the heath on Monday morning. Just about half nine . .