Thursday, 12 August 2010

Scud Puddles.


Wouldn’t it be great if the summer just went on endlessly?

Or do we only appreciate if there is a non-summer to compare it with?

Early today at the petrol pumps that filled me towards the city I could smell sea breezes - the oil couldn’t stop them.

I drove along the edge of unsettled weather from the north and the blues of the Mediterranean south, a frontier marked by a line of scuddy clouds.

What are scuddy clouds?

A made up word that describes clouds that look like the edge of an angel’s wing reflected in the light of a puddle.

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