In the wee dark days before Christmas, the Sun rises in the south east, rolls around the sky just above the rooftops of the average house to show us briefly what gold is all about, and sinks into the south west. We squint at its angle; try to feel its heat; imagine February and daylight afternoons right up to 5 o’clock. In our minds we know that within a few weeks he will travel back up the sky but our primitive bodies follow his descent, dispirited just the same. So I have for you today, some golden moments from 2014 — things of bright memory; my cloth of gold.
Memories of old times
My 60th Birthday on Lindisfarne
My friend Alwyn’s wedding to Bill Taylor
A surprise bouquet
meeting poet Colin Will in Dunbar
and a dream of daffodils