174. I love
the scent of jasmine
on a warm evening
the cold side of the pillow
the smell of my home
after a fortnight away
hot tea in bone china
Anna Kournikova’s arse, in white knickers
cats – any cats
the Ducati rumble
and the Ferrari snarl
the first frosty morning of winter
The Piano
fresh powder with deep blue skies
Danny Boy
– from The Dead Can’t Lie,
the snakes who live in my garden
crystal clear lakeland streams
Gene Wilder
Melitzanosalata
The Singing Detective
the sound of my knee-sliders on tarmac
finding mushrooms in the woods
impeccability, in all it’s guises,
my wife.