Fad No#18: The Cliff Young

Spring has sprung, in all it's gusty, blue-eyed fierceness and you can almost feel the dry nose of summer nudging along behind it, and with the clear days and perfumed mornings I have found myself taking up the art of the Cliff Young ... in my crude attempt at Cockney rhyming slang, the Cliff is the humble run. I can now be found not so much pounding the streets as shuffling them, in an effort to compliment and justify the peach-cobblers, bread-and-butter-pudding and general fat of contentment that domestic life has settled over me like a soft, heavy blanket. And I'm discovering all kinds of joys beyond a tight little ass (which hasn't in truth been quite discovered yet, but I'm sure there must be at least one or two buried in there somewhere!) - like the quiet meditation of getting one foot in front of the other before I fall flat on my face (the miracle of pedal mobility! Don't think about it too much or it ceases to become instinctive and instead becomes robotic!) and the aesthetic raptures of my new and as it turns out, rather pretty neighbourhood. I am inspired to take my camera along on some on these excursions to capture some of the moments that please me, that they may please you too!

We like our streets short around these here parts!