I am fascinated by landings; the moments that happen on them, their endless inactivity. And tonight, switiching lights off and coming downstairs, I caught sight of a window in a house a hundred yards away, a window recently filled by a Christmas tree. Silver and gold lights flashing on and off in rapid succession, another room - or perhaps another landing - that would give me a headache. But then if it is a landing the lights happen in gentle succession and fill the unused room with ambient light, always changing. The window looks out into darkness and the lights seemed tiny, almost brave; in a town they would not.
A neighbour's horse has died; a bonfire this afternoon of straw and rubbish from the stable, thick grey smoke in the bare trees. Our neighbour, gruff and upset, stomping and muttering, managing the fire.
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